


With Style

by BlazeRiddle



Series: Practice [7]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M, OFC centered, POV Shifting, Probably ooc, Tags to be added, non-canon compliant, probably, rated M for graphic descriptions of crime scene, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:56:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 53,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazeRiddle/pseuds/BlazeRiddle
Summary: If there's one thing she knew about life, it was that nothing was certain. Every heartbeat is a gamble, the next nothing but a question. No matter how confident a person could be, there was no telling if the next breath would come with an highest high or a lowest low. Life, for all she tried to make of it, was shrouded in darkness. There was one thing she knew for sure, though.This didn't feel like flying.(Summary will change as I churn out more of the story.)





	1. Diving

**Author's Note:**

> Heya!  
> This one's been stuck in my head for a while, and I got a lot of the lore worked out, so I figured I'd give a shot at writing it down.  
> This is my first adventure into Grimm territory, and I'm a little scared, to be honest. After writing mostly British stuff, I noticed I'm kind of stuck in my ways, so this is a nice practice.  
> Please, if you find anything wrong or unsettling with the story, let me know.  
> Enjoy reading!

It feels like falling.

So much does, nowadays. She used to love the feeling in the pit of her stomach, the twisting as her gut decided that _no, this isn't the way to go_ , the moment her body panicked before her brain caught itself. Freefalling.

But this, this is nothing like that. This is an entirely different kind of falling, this is falling off a ledge with no parachute and no way of knowing where the ground was. This was swimming with a lead lifejacket. This wasn't exhilaration, this was panic.

There was a roar. The metallic scent of blood penetrated her consciousness, faintly. She stared at her knees peeking through the torn fabric of her jeans, her brain stuck on an endless loop.

_NonononononononononononononononoI'mgonnahitthegroundI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadienonononononononono-_

Something was flashing. Blue lights danced across brick walls. Someone was talking. Not _him_ , though. Why not him?

It was _a_ Him, though. As she brought her gaze up, she managed to focus on his face. He was in his forties, maybe, and Eastern Asian. He was wearing the typical blues of an American police sergeant, and he was looking at her with... suspicion? Fear? Pity? She couldn't quite tell.

He reached out to her. She flinched. Somewhere inside of her, an ember started again, lighting an incredibly foul mood.

"Fuck off."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Hank looked at the file Wu just dropped onto his desk. "Are you sure?" He handed the file to his partner, who frowned at the information.

"This might be a problem." Nick handed the file back. "We should inform the captain."

Wu nodded. "You should-"

 There was the bang of a door hitting the wall, and a man -obviously a civilian- entered their little world, looking a little surprised and a little guilty at the noise he caused. Nick was almost sure he'd seen a shimmer of something dark on the pale skin. The man spotted them looking at him, and marched their way.

"Detectives Griffin and Burkhardt?" His accent was heavy, posh and definitely English. "You're the ones researching the alleyway slaughter?"

Nick straightened himself. Even standing as straight as he could, he barely reached up to the man's nose. There was an obvious leanness to the man's body, well-defined muscles hidden beneath buttoned-up cotton. He'd be able to take Nick down easily if he wanted to, though he didn't think the man would be stupid enough to attack him in a room full of police. Still, it was reassuring to hear Hank get in position to interfere.

"The quadruple homicide." Nick corrected him, his voice like steel. They hadn't released any information to the public yet, so there was really only one way the man could know about it. "We will release a statement later today."

"I don't care about the statement." The man stepped into Nick's personal space. "You need to release your suspect."

Nick resisted the urge to glance back at the file, but just barely. "Why?"

The man stepped even closer, forcing Nick to crane his neck all the way to meet his eyes. His light eyes seemed gleam and change, and for a second, his skin seemed to sizzle. "Because I say so."

"No."

Nick swallowed but continued to stare him down as his skin changed, turned a dark, almost black blue, his pupils becoming little slits in yellow eyes. _Wesen_. Something related to Dämonfeuer, if the snake-like appearance was anything to go by. Nick stared down the creature, making sure not to flinch at the new face. "I can't just do that."

The man's eyes narrowed and his lips curled in a toothy grin. "I'm not afraid of you, _Grimm_." He stepped back and changed back, looking around. "Where is your superior?"

"Right here." The moment the door had slammed, the captain had come out to see what the commotion was about. When he saw the man change, he decided to step in. "Who are you?"

The man turned to the captain, sized him up. After a long moment, he pulled out an identity card. "F. C. Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth from Interpol. You should be expecting me and my partner."

 The Captain nodded, obviously not really impressed. "Right. And your partner is...?"

Nick handed him the file, a pained look on his face. "... Suspected of murder. Wu picked her up this morning at the scene of a quadruple homicide."

"Which she didn't do." Darren looked around them. "Can we talk somewhere in private? Without all these..." He lowered his voice "...People?"

"No." Nick crossed his arms, quirking a brow. "Just talk."

The man sighed. "She was-" he rubbed his face. "It was me. I- They were Hündjager. Attacked her in the alley. I got angry, tore them to pieces." He turned from Nick to look at the Captain. "And that's the story I will stick to when you need an official statement."

Hank chuckled. "Might want to leave out the Wesen, though." He suggested. "Not sure if a jury would buy that."

Darren shrugged. "I'll tell them I had a knife. Wouldn't want to anger a _Grimm_ and his _little friends_." It could've been the accent, but sarcasm seemed to be dripping from his words. "I just need you to clear my partner."

"And you're willing to take the hit, just like that?"

His lips quirked in a half-amused smile. "Oh, _detective_ , you obviously haven't met my partner yet."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The woman looked awful, there was no denying that. The Captain seriously wondered why she was brought to a holding cell instead of to a hospital room.  They didn't even give her anything to clean herself up with, and her tattered clothes were still covered in dried blood. It was on her face and hair as well, and there was so much of it there was no telling whose it was. She was definitely injured, though, dark purple bruises starting to color her exposed arms and calves. A cut near her hairline was still slowly trickling blood.

Oh, they were in so much trouble.

The woman was huddled in a corner and seemed pretty intent to stay there. As the cell door opened, she seemed to tense, but didn't move otherwise. He could understand. After the night she'd had, she was probably more than a little traumatized and done with the world.

"You're free to go." Hank's words seemed loud in the loaded air. She looked up at that, though. Slowly, more gracefully than she had any right to looking like he did, she uncurled to her full -not that impressive- height. She stood at a little over five feet with her back straight, her bright green eyes contrasting stark with all the red on her body. She met their eyes easily, as if the broken, crumpled thing on the floor had been someone else entirely.

"Finally." She walked to the cell door, but stopped just inside. "Why, if I may know?"

Nick swallowed, frowned, obviously feeling uncomfortable bringing the bad news. "We have a confession."

"Ah." She nodded. Her eyes darted over his face for a moment. "And you believe him more capable of murder than... this." She gestured at her small frame with the last word. "I don't blame you. That dragon thing he does is impressive. It probably wasn't hard to be swayed like that, right, mister-" She paused for a moment, glanced at Hank, "-Grimm?"

"Burkhardt." He corrected with a small smile, obviously uncomfortable. Her way of talking was as sure and posh as Darren's had been, but something was slightly off about it. And it wasn't just the way she looked. "We're really sorry about-"

"Don't worry about it." She interrupted him with a wave of her hand and a slight tilt of her lips. "You guys had every right to take me in, Mr. Burkhardt, I _was_ sulking around at the crime scene. A shower would've been nice though, but your men did treat me pretty well for a murder suspect." She looked at them, obviously noticing their still slightly uneasy feeling. "You ran my prints."

"We did." Hank confirmed. "We do want to-"

"That would make you the Sherriff." She completely ignored him, and instead turned to the third man in the room. "Nice to meet you, sir. Not exactly the circumstances we'd planned."

The captain offered a friendly nod and offered his hand. "Captain Sean Renard."

She looked at his hand, then at her own red one, and quirked a brow. "Alexae Martín. It's a pleasure, sir. I am afraid I missed our meeting this morning, but I hope you understand why."

"We can reschedule." He offered up a more genuine smile. "If there's anything we can do in the meantime-"

"Please stop apologizing." She frowned at him. "I'm not here to report you for anything, sir, I just want a shower. And a clean set of clothes, maybe."

"Then that's what you'll get." He gestured to the door and allowed her to lead the way out of the gloomy hall as he kept talking. "I am sorry this happened to you on your first night here." He walked them all the way to his office.

"So am I, sir." She took in the office space, looking less at ease now that people were staring at her. "Not the best first impression of your city."

"Let me make it up to you, then." The Captain turned, opening his door as he did. "Tonight, I'll take you to dinner. Show you there's good people in this city, as well."

Something warm broke out onto her face and through her eyes. "Gallant." A warm smile showed a line of not-quite-perfect teeth. "Well, who am I to refuse such an offer?" She looked down at herself once again. "I do have to make one request, sir. I _really_ need a shower and you arrested my ride."

The Captain chuckled. "Burkhardt can take you." He offered. The detective nodded and went to get his keys. "He'll tell me where to pick you up tonight."

She nodded. "I'll see you tonight then, Sir."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The shower had done her well. When Sean picked her up at her motel that night, she had changed into clean clothes and washed her hair, and he could finally see what she was supposed to look like. She had dark blonde hair, lighter in some places, that reached to hang above her shoulders. She had a kind face with big eyes and freckles that made her seem much younger than her file said she was. She was wearing clean, whole jeans and  a simple t-shirt under a leather jacket. She looked like a Cosmo picture of _edgy_.

As she came closer, he noticed she was wearing a pendant, a gold necklace with a gem at the end that seemed to be an heirloom.

He got out of the car and opened the door for her. She beamed at him.

"You don't have to _woo_ me, Captain."

He chuckled, "I do have to make up for-"

"Sir, stop apologizing, please!" She shook her head. "You guys made the obvious-" She paused as he closed the door and walked around to the other side. "-obvious decision. Honestly, I feel worse about missing our meeting and ruining our first day here. I don't know long we have until we leave again."

The Captain looked at her as he put the car into gear. "Your partner killed four people."

"In self-defense. Well, other-defense. Me-defense. No jury will convict him, if the thing even gets to court. I hate to tell you, sir, but _I know people at Interpol_."

He huffed a laugh. "Really? I didn't know."

She laughed. "I'm full of surprises, sir."

"It's Sean. You don't have to be that polite all the time." He took his eyes off of the road to glance at her.

"Sorry, it's..." She looked out of the window. "...Culture, I guess. I'm from a pretty strict background, sir. Sean. Sorry."

He chuckled, "We'll work on that. If you're staying, we should have a good working relationship."

"Yeah." She looked around the car, her gaze sliding over the dashboard. "Though I have a feeling I already half-solved the reason we came over."

He hummed, nodding slightly for her to continue. She figured they had to discuss it anyway, so she might as well get it started. "We have intelligence that a heap of international criminals might have been targeting Portland for their operations. Having a Grimm on the police force does explain a lot. They do tend to be a hotbed for trouble."

He nodded. "Our lives _are_ interesting." He looked at her again, eyes scanning her face quickly before they focused back in front of him.

"How do you know Nick's a Grimm?"

She swallowed at the non-sequitur, and blinked for a long moment. Something settled in the air, hanging heavy and tingling for a moment before it dissipated. "Darren told me a lot about it." The way she said it, it was obvious she knew he didn't believe her. "I studied it a lot, try to find the signs. Darren signaled me in. I had everyone at the PD vetted before we came here. I'm secretly a psychic." She looked at him, grinning. "You believe me yet, si-Sean?"

"No." He smirked.

"Well, I'm pretty sure one of those stories is true." She looked out of the window as they pulled up to the restaurant. "We're having Italian?"

"Yes." He parked the car. "Problem?"

"Not at all, I was there last week!" She opened the door and threw him a smile over her shoulder. "I can't wait to find out how Americans ruin this one." She didn't quite know why, but she winked at him before she jumped out of the car.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant was very small and informal, with rickety tables and booths, and an orange-scented candle burning on every table. They sat hidden in a back corner of the dining room, in a booth that seemed isolated from the rest of the room. She looked around at the dim lighting, at the food served on the other tables. The candles were no doubt to mask the garlic smell.

"It's a good thing vampires aren't real." She muttered, her eyes resting on a plate of appetizers. "This place would be a stronghold."

He hummed. "How do you know they're not real?" He handed her a menu and she opened it, grateful for the new distraction.

"I've never met one." She ran her eyes over the choices. "And I've met a few crazy people in my life. Though there was this one guy in Germany who claimed he was, but I threw an entire head of garlic at him and he didn't melt."

"Not sure that's how it would work." He quirked his brow at her. "You ready to order a drink?"

She looked at the drink section, frowning. "All right." She sighed. "The next thing coming from my mouth is going to make me sound stupid, but..." She looked at the list again. "... I have no concept of pricing in this country, and half of these brand names don't make much sense, so..." she trailed off, looking at him helplessly. "I don't go out much."

He chuckled. "You drink wine?"

She shrugged. "Sure." When he kept looking at her, she rolled her eyes and sighed. She pulled a little card from her jeans pocket. "How _young_ do you think I _am_?"

He chuckled, but took the card anyway. Her age checked out with her file, but-

"This is a fake." He handed it back, and she examined it as well.

"No it isn't, it's just foreign." She pocketed it again. "Why would I carry a fake ID?"

He shrugged, smirking. "Maybe because you're secretly twelve?"

She let her head hang, huffing an exasperated laugh. "Twelve? I know I have a young face, but- Besides, there's no way Interpol would allow it."

He nodded. "Not without a _very_ good reason."

"Sounds like you have experience." She put the menu down, obviously ready to grill him.

He placed his menu down, too. "Do you have a file on me?"

"Yeah, we have name, age, previous employment..." as she was talking, her hand slowly inched over the table. "... marital status, family history-" Her pinky grazed his hand and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "That's it, isn't it? Your family?" Her eyes were strangely clear, as if she knew exactly what was going on. She folded her arms. "You have family issues."

"What gave you that idea?" He frowned, feigning innocence.

"Because-" She stopped talking again, scrunching her eyes shut. "Oh. _Oh,_ that _is_ good." She opened her eyes again, smirking at him.

"You're a royal." She tilted her head, studying his face. "I knew there was something familiar about your jaw line." She shrugged, "Well, at least you're not one of the arrogant ones."

He chuckled. "You've only known me for a day." He warned. "How did you know that?"

She opened her menu. "I'm a travelling agent for Interpol. It's my _job_ to know."

He quirked a brow at her. "That doesn't answer my question."

She rolled her eyes. "I do a lot of research, It's in your file. I secretly work for your family, I'm secretly your cousin. I've been stalking you since nineteen-eighty-four. Take your pick."

He looked down at the menu. "I'm picking the Bolognese." He smirked. "Somehow, I don't think the right choice is in there."

She shrugged. "If you say so. The ricotta tortellini sound good. Does that pair with a red?"

Sean smiled at the obvious change in subject, and took it. They spent the rest of the night talking about anything but family and their backgrounds. By the time Sean dropped her off at the motel, it was nearly midnight.

This was going to be a good partnership.


	2. The Morning after

The next morning, Nick and Hank were working out the paperwork from the homicides when she walked in. She made a beeline for them, plopping down on the desk next to their computers.

"Morning, sirs." She offered an easy smile. "I take it you guys will need my statement for the case."

Hank sighed, standing up. "It would help wrap this thing up. The sooner the killer-"

"Is my partner, Mr. Griffin." She hopped off the desk and followed them to the interrogation room. "And he's not going away for long. The court case is going to be a formality."

"Really?" Nick opened the door and let her enter first. "You sound sure. "

"Well, it's a pretty straight-forward situation, sir." She jumped onto the interrogation table. "I was assaulted, he came to my rescue. Case closed."

"He tore apart four people."Hank closed the door behind them and leaned against the wall next to it, in full detective mode. "Bit much, don't you think?"

"He got angry." She shrugged, "He had a right to, sir."

Nick pulled out a chair and sat down, looking up at her with his arms crossed. "Why do you think that?"

She quirked a brow. "Sir, you guys found me with half of my clothes torn off. You make the observation."

Nick swallowed. "I'm so-"

"Sir, don't." She rolled her eyes. "To tell you the truth, this isn't the first time something like this happened. Usually, I handle myself, but I was... off, I guess."

Nick nodded understandingly. "How often has this happened before?"

She shrugged. "I don't keep count, sir."

Hank pushed himself away from the wall. "What were you doing alone in that alley?" He asked, "Why wasn't Darren there?"

"We had dinner in a pub- bar." She answered, "He was taking care of the bill. I needed some fresh air. Before I knew it, I was pulled into the alley. They overpowered me, I-" She closed her eyes against the memory. "Sir, I don't want to talk about it, if you don't mind."

"Of course." Nick stood. "What happened when Darren arrived?"

"He lost it." She focused on a spot on the wall. "I remember him yelling, at first, pulling them off of me. Then they Woged, he Woged, he roared, they screamed, I blacked out. I came to when your sergeant found me. Sir."

"What do you do at Interpol, exactly?" Hank asked. He pulled out the other chair. She turned to her side so he wasn't behind her.

"I'm a linguistics and communications expert, sir." She explained, "Which is fancy talk for translator. Darren is the brawl. We're a team that follows up on international cases."

"And you're in Portland because..."

She quirked a brow. "This place is a hotbed for trouble lately. Officially, we're here to follow up on a tip about some international criminals, but unofficially..." She looked at Nick, "There's been a lot of Wesen activity in Portland, and we came over to figure out why. Mystery solved." She hopped off the table. "Will that be all, sirs? I have work to do."

She already had her hand on the doorknob when Nick spoke up.

"How did you know I'm a Grimm?"

She froze, didn't turn. Opened the door to a crack.

"You guys all smell the same. Sir." She closed the door behind her silently.

Nick and Hank shared a look.

"Do you believe her?"

"Not a word." Nick looked at the closed door, then sniffed his jacket.

"You think she's Wesen?"

"If she is, I haven't seen anything yet." Nick moved to the door, but didn't open it yet. "We'll run her file again, see what it is."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm going to need a desk." She leaned against the door to the captain's office as she spoke. "I have to work on some paperwork I took from home and I kind of need space."

Sean looked up briefly. "I'll set something up." He promised. "We have extra chairs. You can sit anywhere in the meantime."

"And I will do that." She stood up straight and surveyed the room behind her. "Can I get access to the personnel files? I'll need to stalk some more people before my boss is happy."

He chuckled. "You can go down to IT, I'll call ahead. Anything else?"

She glanced over her shoulder again. She could sense Nick's eyes on her back, could feel the suspicion rolling off of Hank in waves. "Nope, I'm good." She turned, grabbed a chair on her way, and sashayed to the two.

"Can I join you, gentlemen?" She sat down before they could answer. "Your captain apparently doesn't keeps spare desks in his back pocket." She took her bag from where she'd dropped it, and pulled out her laptop. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

Nick shrugged, turning his screen away. "Sure. You need to do some work?"

"Yeah, my boss wants me to vet some people, and then there are a few texts I got to translate." She pulled her headphone out of her bag. "Nothing interesting, really, but if I'm in the way, please let me know, sirs." She plugged them in, pretending to tune out the world and bobbing her head on non-existent music.

"You think she can hear us?"

Bingo.

He saw Nick shrug from the corner of her eye. "Maybe. We shouldn't risk it." He turned his screen away even more, and started typing. So, she wasn't going to get anything out of them, not now at least. Maybe if they left, she could take a peek at their computers, but for now she had to wait.

"Where do you think she's from?"

There was a small pause as Nick looked at his screen. "Her file says Paris. She doesn't sound French."

"She sounds English. You think she's hiding something? Why would she hide her nationality?"

She smirked, taking off her headset. "Je cache quelque chose, mais c'est pas ma nationalité." As they turned to her, her smirk grew. "hon, hon, baguette, _messieurs_."

Hank scoffed. "You're a language expert. Speaking French means nothing."

She shrugged. "True. If you want another theory, I can pretend to be Russian for a while." She focused on her laptop, opening a file she had to translate. "Why don't you just ask _me_ what I'm hiding?"

Nick quirked a brow. "You'd lie to us."

"Quick to catch on. You should be a detective." She started typing. "You know, a wise man once said that you can learn a lot about a person by what they don't say. For instance-" She placed her headset on the desk. "- Hank here _didn't_ tell me that he has serious doubts that I'm in any way trustworthy, nor has he told me he thinks my accent is pretentious and fake, but he has, and he does. And Nick-" She eyed him up and down. "You're a Grimm. You hide all kinds of stuff." She stood up, slowly moving closer. "And I want to know every single one." The air started to sparkle a little bit, and he swallowed. She reached up her hand to his cheek-

Their phones rang, both of them. Nick stepped back, the moment broken. He looked down at his screen, frowning.

"A murder?" She asked, moving back. "I'll get out of your way."

"Yes." Before grabbing his coat, Nick locked his computer. She hopefully managed to hide her disappointment.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Passwords were incredibly easy to crack when you had access to public records. An extra autograph on a buyer's agreement, an extra name written down on the same address, and within ten minutes she guessed _Silverton1981_ correctly. Maybe the police force needed a renewed lecture on computer security. Maybe after she was done breaking into people's accounts.

They hadn't found much on her, yet. They had dug up Darren's Interpol records, though, and their plane tickets. They didn't know anything they shouldn't, yet. Quickly, she ran her own name through the system, just to see what came up. There were her files, the record of her entering the country, anything else she made sure to make public.

"Does Nick know you're breaking into his account?" The Captain asked.

She nearly jumped out of the chair. "Crap, you walk silently." She turned to him. "They don't trust me, they're running background checks."

"I wouldn't trust you, either." He smirked, leaned against the desk next to the computer. "You're foreign and mysterious."

"And formerly suspected of murder." She rolled her eyes. "I think they think I'm Wesen."

"Aren't you?" He quirked a brow at her.

She smiled. "You can't prove a thing." She locked up the computer. "You do remind me, though. Do you know when I can see Darren? I need to... give him something."

"That sounds illegal ." The captain frowned . "What is it?"

"That was going to be my second question." She stood, packing her bag. "Do you know where I can get... stuff for people like you?" She frowned, unsure how to phrase it. "Stuff like medicine, and drinks?"

"I know a place downtown." The captain took a post-it from the desk and scribbled something down. "The people are nice. Make sure to ask for Rosalee for anything complicated, though. Monroe is a bit..."

"A bit what?" She was already slinging her bag on her back.

He smiled mischievously. "You'll see."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The shop seemed at tad old-fashioned. It was slightly dusty, and had one of those little bells that tingled when she came in. The walls were filled with shelves stacked with all kinds of things, and a kind woman was cleaning the counter. She looked up and smiled as she walked in.

"Afternoon. Can I help you?"

"Are you Rosalie?" She asked.

The woman nodded.

"Right." She took a deep breath. "I have a bit of an odd request for you."


	3. Multilingual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the disclaimers begin.  
> Russian and French are not languages I speak natively. I've tried to use short sentences to minimize mistakes, but if you do find them, please let me know so I can change them.  
> Also, for the sake of ease, the pieces are in the notes at the end, with their (liberal) English translations.
> 
> EDIT: Eternal thank you's to the amazing Sarah, who corrected my awful Russian and made the words make more sense. :D

Her phone rang just as she was leaving the shop. It was an unknown number, and she answered hesitantly.

"Alexae Martín."

There was a crack on the line. "Hey, it's Nick. Burkhardt. The captain gave me your number."

"I know who you are, Sir." She tried not to roll her eyes. "How can I help you?"

There was a slight pause. "Do you really know Russian?"

She smirked to herself. "Text me the address, I'm on my way." She paused for a moment. "You're paying my cab fare." She slipped the pills into her backpack and disconnected. The moment her phone tinged with a text she waved down a taxi.

At least they trusted her enough to go to a crime scene. She rattled off the address, hoping she sounded certain enough to not get the tourist add-up. Her accent probably didn't help, but the Portland PD was paying, anyway.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

There was yellow tape halfway up the street from where she needed to be, and Hank was waiting for her. He moved to her cab, wallet already in hand.

She got out. "I asked for the premium rate." She joked, ducking underneath the tape and moving towards sergeant Wu. "What do we have?"

Wu swallowed, looking her up and down suspiciously. "Why are you here?"

She looked around. "Nick said he needed someone who speaks Russian."

"Right." Wu nodded, pointing to a spot a little up the road. "We have a witness, but his English is not that good. I guess he hopes you can help."

"I'll see if I can." She walked towards them, easily spotting the dark-haired detective. He was talking to a lanky, blond man with an angry face who was gesturing wildly.

"Afternoon!" She interrupted their conversation from a few feet away. "Everything all right here?"

The man turned to her, scowling. "No."

She smiled brightly, ignoring Nick as he tried to explain things. "Ah, you must be the Russian. _Dobryy den_ , gospodin."

He squinted at her. "You police?" His accent was heavy, his voice rough. A bit too much of a stereotype, she thought.

"Da." She crossed her arms. "Forgive me, I am a bit rusty, but _Vy chtonibut videli_? Vi videli ubiytsu?"

The witness hesitated, looking between her and Nick. It was obvious that the detective was resigned to letting her take the lead, even if he didn't quite look happy with it. "Da." He answered, "Ya videl... Net, nichego. Ya nichego ne videl."

"Chto, nichego?." She pressed him, "Nu davajite, zhe, govorite."

He stayed silent, glaring at them. Obviously, he knew _something_ , but he didn't tell them. She was pretty sure it wasn't because of the language barrier. He still stayed silent, even in Russian.

"Davaj-te, rassakazivaj-te." She urged. "Chto-zhe vy takogo uvideli?"

When he still didn't answer, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "You know what I'm thinking, _gospodin_? I think this entire thing isn't about a language barrier." She stepped a tiny bit closer, and glared up at the man. "I think this is about my friend the detective being Portland PD and you being a _nakroman_. Or is this supposed to be about you being a big, scary Blutbad amd him being-" She glanced at him behind her, "- an admittedly slightly smaller, but much, much more scary Grimm. But let me tell you something." She was even closer now, firmly in his personal space and looking up at him. "He is not the one you should be afraid of, because _pryatel_ , I can _tear you apart_ without blinking." She lowered her voice, hoping Nick wouldn't hear her. "I know you've heard what happened to the Hündjager that were bothering me. Word travels fast."

The Russian swallowed. "You-"

"Yes." She stepped back, raising her voice. "So you choose, me or the detective. I know what my choice would be."

The man sighed, obviously rattled, then turned to Nick. "I saw man." He said, his accent lighter than it had been. "Last night. He climbed in through upstairs window."

Nick offered her a grateful nod and a hint of a smile as she made herself sparse.

"How'd you do that?" Wu asked, from his spot near the tape.

She shrugged. "You just need to... connect with them. It helps that I speak the language." She smirked at his confused face. "I also look like the least threatening thing on the planet, that's a plus."

He scoffed. "You look a lot more menacing when you're covered in blood."

"Really? I never knew." She pulled out her phone. "Excuse me, I need to set up a meeting with a murderer."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

He was locked up in the same cell as she had been, though he looked a lot less disheveled.  His button-up was a bit dirty, he seemed a bit tired and sweaty, but other than that, he was fine. He stood as Alexae and Sean entered the room, and he smiled from ear to ear as he spotted her.

"Alex." He reached through the bars to hug her. "I was wondering when you'd show up. You're late."

She smiled at him. "I had to clean up after you. And then I had to translate for a Russian, no big deal, really."

He chuckled. "Usually when you say that, someone nearly died." His eyes found Sean. "I see you befriended the Captain?"

"Oh." She shrugged. "Sean, yeah. He's... nice. Took me to dinner when you bailed on me." She pulled a small bottle from her pocket. "He also told me where to find a good medicine store. I brought you these. Made them myself."

Darren looked between the bottle and the Captain.

The captain shrugged. "I'll just assume they're tic-tacs."

He took the bottle, shaking out one pill and looking at it. "They are." He mumbled, before he put it back. He turned to his partner. "Alex, these are- "

"J'ai fait deux bouteilles." She assured him. "Je devais savoir où le magasins sont."

He nodded, seemingly marveling at her. "Merçi. I will use them."

The Captain scraped his throat. "We'll have to cut this one short, I'm afraid. People want to go home early because of the weekend and I can't leave you here alone."

"Of course." They hugged for one final time, saying their goodbyes. Alexae smiled weakly as she stepped away. "I'll see you on Monday."

"I'll be here." He waved at them as they left the room.

They walked to the Captain's office together, and she stopped at the door as he packed his stuff.

"You need a ride home?" He asked, "You don't have a car here."

"If you don't mind." She watched him. "Thank you for letting me see him. Letting me give him the... medication. I know you've every right to arrest me for even suggesting it."

"Not a problem." He smiled as he swung his coat around his shoulders. "What's in them, though?"

She swallowed. "It's an old family recipe. Suppressants. They're supposed to make it harder to Woge. I figured, if he is going to prison, he might need to lay low." She followed him out of the room.

"Right." He led the way to the elevators, stopped briefly to take her bag from Griffin's desk.

She huffed. "You don't believe me?"

"Not entirely, no." He threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Why not?" She couldn't even sound fake-offended. "I thought we bonded."

"We did." He stopped to press the elevator button and looked at her properly, smirking. "Mais je parle Français."

He stepped into the elevator. She stood, stunned, until the doors started to close, and she realised she did have to actually get on.

 _Well,_ she managed to think, decidedly not looking at him, _I might actually be in trouble this time. A great, steaming heap of trouble._

A massive pile of _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian Encounter:  
> {{He squinted at her. "You police?" His accent was heavy, his voice rough. A bit too much of a stereotype, she thought.  
> "Yes." She crossed her arms. "Forgive me, I am a bit rusty, but What did you see? Have you seen the killer?"  
> The witness hesitated, looking between her and Nick. It was obvious that the detective was resigned to letting her take the lead, even if he didn't quite look happy with it. "Yes." He answered, "I saw... no, nothing. I saw nothing."  
> "What nothing?" She pressed him. "Come on, let's talk."  
> He stayed silent, glaring at them. Obviously, he knew something, but he didn't tell them. She was pretty sure it wasn't because of the language barrier. He still stayed silent, even in Russian.  
> "Go on, tell me." She repeated. "What did you see?"}}
> 
> The French:  
> {{"I've made two bottles." She assured him. "I needed to know where the stores are."}}  
> {{I speak French}}
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me again! Let me know what you think so far!


	4. Begotten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the rating for this chapter. there's a long, graphic description of a bloody crime scene. Be warned.

She startled awake.

It was the darkest part of the night. The orange streetlights streamed into her room where the curtains didn't close completely. Their suitcases were standing in the corner, packed, ready to pick up. A critter skittered from the light as she sat up. It was either a really big roach, or a mouse. At this point, she didn't really care. She just made sure to leave some food out for them.

She sat for a moment, trying to discern what had awoken her. It hadn't been the rats, she was used to them by now.

Ah, there it was; a soft knock on her door.

She swallowed. This was too much like the end of a horror movie. "Who's there?"

"Alex, it's Sean." His voice sounded about as awake as she felt. She jumped out of her bed, opened the door for him. He grinned at her tiredly, leaning against the wall.

"You look terrible." She yawned.

"Thanks." He rubbed his face. "Were you here all night?"

"Yeah, I've been asleep." She gestured behind her. "Why?"

He sighed. "Darren has a copycat."

"Oh, shi-" She nearly bit her tongue. "Oh, _no._ No, that's terrible." She felt a little sick.

He studied her face. "Yes." He said after a while. "It is. I just wanted to make sure you were... here."

"And not out killing people." She rolled her eyes, quirking her lips. "Are you headed to the crime scene?"

"Yeah." He stood up straight, ran a hand through his hair. "My car is parked out front."

"Five minutes?"

"Sure." He smiled. "How do you drink your coffee?"

She groaned. "At this time of night? Strong, with everything. I'll be right there." She closed the door, and picked up her jeans, shaking them out. Yesterday's clothes would have to do; there was no way she was going to make effort at this time of the night - or morning.

After she had gotten dressed, she pulled her phone from its charger and groaned at the time. Half past four.

The world was a cruel, cruel place.

At least there was going to be coffee.

She took her bag and quickly checked its contents before she rushed down.  She had half a mind to skip the stairs, but her five minutes weren't up yet and Sean probably wasn't back with the coffee yet, anyway.

She found his car and lay down against the windshield. She was nearly asleep again when she sensed him approach. He slammed his hand on the hood.

She quirked open one eye. "Are you trying to scare me? Because you didn't scare me."

He chuckled. "Come on." He got into the car. "I have coffee."

She rolled her eyes, slid off the hood and got into the passenger's side.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick and Hank were already waiting for them at the yellow tape when they arrived. Nick had a very dark look on his face, either because of the hour or because of the circumstances. Hank just looked tired.

Alexae sipped her coffee as she approached them. Nick held up the tape for her. She offered him a cheerful face as she passed him.

"Looking a bit grim today, sir."

He glared at her. " _Seriously._ "

She shrugged. "Prepare to hear that one a lot. It's the only one I have. Where to, detective?"

He led them into a house, and it became very clear that his sour mood was because of the circumstances. The trail started at the door, with a splatter on the wall. The red trailed down to streak over the linoleum of the short hallway, over the doorstep into the living room. There, right in front of the couch, was the first victim. She could understand why the Captain had called it a copy-cat, now; the poor woman was ripped apart and scorched, the organs that were supposed to be insides definitely _not_ inside her body. She was lying in a pool of her own blood, a disgusting frame broken in a few spots where someone had seemingly ran their fingers through it, gathered up the stuff and smeared it above her, painting their message in messy, messed-up script on the sofa.

_Malum_

The next victim was still sitting at the kitchen table, his head flat on the surface, eyes staring blankly at his... wife. She quickly glanced at their hands to confirm they were wearing matching rings. Maybe she shouldn't have. The man's body looked better than that of the first victim, but his hands were the worst. His wrists were slit, not just to the arteries, but to the bone. His hands were now a dark brownish from the dried blood, and beneath them, the blood had gathered. Next to his head, another word was smeared.

_Gignit_

She swallowed. She knew what happened here, she could feel it in the air, almost as strong as the smell of copper. She could only hope she was at least slightly wrong. Standing at a safe distance, she stared back at the man at the table. His pupils were relaxed, diluted slightly. His eyes were slightly crossed. She covered her nose, tried to breathe through her mouth. Short, shallow, like he'd taught her. It really was like a smell. She could feel it closing in.

"Are you all right?" Nick asked, surprisingly soft. She probably looked terrible, then.

"Yeah." She assured him, letting out a long breath. "I'm-" She rubbed her hands together, trying to fight off the cold that seemed to come from within. "Renard said there were four. Where are the others?"

"Upstairs." Nick pointed at the ceiling. "One in a bed, on in the bathroom. It's... not better than this."

"Right." She pivoted in place, taking in the rest of the room. Aside from near the bodies, nearly nothing was disturbed. Chairs were in place, there were no broken vases... A picture of a family of five hung on one of the walls. "Are there more words?"

"Another _malum_ on the bathroom mirror. Nothing in the bedroom."

"Right. Okay." She looked around, trying to decide what to do. In her peripheral, she noticed Hank and Sean entering the room. "You guys take upstairs, then, we'll look down here. Make sure to turn the bedroom inside out. There _has_ to be something there. Look for notes, photos, anything."

Hank frowned at her. "You think the sick bastard who did this left a _selfie_?"

"No, but they might be clues." She pointed at the picture on the wall. "If these people are those people, then they're pretty close with one of the guys that assaulted me. That means that this might just be... retaliation?" She looked at Sean. "That doesn't sound right. Continued revenge?"

"Escalation." He offered. "That would make this more than a copycat."

"Yeah." She took the nitrile gloves Nick offered and snapped them on. "That, and the ominous blood writing." She nodded at the couch. "Evil begets evil. Bit much, I'd say."

Hank looked at her impassively. "Four people are dead."

"Sorry." She nodded. "I'll try to be more gri- grave. Let's get to work, yes?"

Nick and Hank moved upstairs, grumbling, as she turned to the man at the table. She had to at least pretend to investigate this.

She hovered her hands over his still form.

"Have you... done this before?" Sean asked, watching her cautiously.

"Dead bodies? Yes." She carefully ran her fingers along the hairs in his neck. "Poking them while wearing powdered gloves? Usually Darren's thing." She prodded the side of his neck, and frowned. There was a bump there, an irregularity near where his artery was. "Hold on." She leaned in to examine it. There was a small pinprick, near the main artery into the brain. "Are her common cartoid arteries still there?"

There was a pause as he checked. "Yes."

"Check for needle marks." She leaned in close to sniff it.

"They're here." He confirmed. "What are you thinking?"

"Our killers are more humane than I thought." She kneeled down to carefully examine his wrists. "They probably drugged them before exsanguinating them. Maybe even killed them."

"So all this was done post-mortem." It wasn't a question. "To send a message?"

"Yes." She could feel his eyes burning in her neck. "You know, in many cultures blood is closely associated with life. Many theologies have rituals that-"

"I know." Sean walked towards her. "You think someone wanted to make sure they... stayed dead?"

"No, this is a message." She got back up and stepped back, regarding the table. "Not for them, but for... I don't know." She took off one of her gloves, staring at the table but focused on the man behind her. If they didn't solve this case in time, more families would follow, for sure, but she had no way of bringing it delicately.

"It was the Dragon Cult, wasn't it?"

Or she could just kick in the door and waltz right over the subject. Obviously, he had more guts than she did. And also-

"You know about them?" She turned to him and let out a relieved sigh. "I don't know how I could explain this to Nick without- Well." She shrugged. "They already think I'm weird, I don't want to let them know I know things I have no reason to know."

"So you think it was them?" Sean asked, ignoring her rant.

"Probably." She looked at the woman on the floor. "Imitating Darren's MO, the exsanguination, the messages... Someone must have seen him as he Woged, and decided that his efforts needed to be extrapolated."

He blinked at her. "Yet you blanked on escalation."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I think in four languages and none of them is English. Things get mixed up sometimes. Important thing is, we need to stop them before they get to the other families."

"We need to tell Nick." Sean sighed, looking around again. "Any sign about who it could be?"

She looked at the man, at the pools of blood underneath his chair. "Look away." She said, "Turn around and count to twenty."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why?"

She sighed, kneeling down. "Because I'm out of ideas, the chance the boys upstairs find something is miniscule, and I'm about to do something that's both mildly gross and slightly illegal."

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes darting from her face to her necklace and back to her face, scrunched into a picture of determination and mild desperation.

He turned around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


	5. the coin

"So..." Nick frowned at them. "They're a cult?"

"Yes. No." She dropped down in his chair, rubbing her eyes. "Kind of. It's a bit more complicated." She looked around the room. "Do we have a whiteboard or something? I feel like you Americans need a history lesson."

Sean rolled his eyes. "Just give them the short version."

"All right." She huffed a breath. "Darren isn't Dämonfeuer, he's part of an ancient family line that's supposed to be super powerful and strong and that's worshipped like Dragons by some groups that would do anything to protect the family line." She shrugged, as if that cleared everything up.

"So a cult."

"Except it's been going on for over a millennium. If the books are to be believed." She opened her laptop, ready to drop the subject. They had to focus on the who, now, and not on the why.

"What books?" Nick sat down on the desk, next to the laptop. "You have books about this stuff?"

She hesitated for a moment. "At home. I have books about nearly everything. I lived in a library." She looked up at him. "You don't have books? American."

"I have books." Nick closed her laptop. "I don't remember reading about a Dragon cult, though."

"Of course not." She opened it again. "Can we focus on the whos now? The whats and whys can wait until the other families are safe."

"Right." Nick sighed, looking down at his notes. "What do we have to go on?"

Before she could speak up, Sean stepped forward, approaching the nearby whiteboard with a marker. "There were probably three of them." He reiterated what she'd told him before as he wrote the information down. "At least one Dämonfeuer-" He jotted down _flamethrower_ , "-one big guy, possibly Blutbad, and someone else."

Hank leaned back in his chair. "And we know this because...?"

"The woman-victim was burnt." Alexae pointed out, gesturing at the _flamethrower_. "It matches their MO." She leaned forward, closed her laptop again and rested her head on the lid. She was feeling a bit dizzy. Maybe she should eat. "A Blutbad would be able to... cause the other wounds. And they would need at least one other people to keep the others in check." Bright flares were dancing against the backs of her eyelids.

"Person." Sean corrected. "You all right?"

"Fine. Tired." She cracked open one eye. "Go on."

"...Right." He turned to the board. "Whoever did this recognized Darren's victim and somehow found out where his family lived."

"They either knew the family, or they had enough contacts to find them." Nick surmised. The captain wrote along.

"How close-knit is the community here?" Alexae asked, her one eye looking up at him. "The... you know, oddball community? What do they call it here?"

"The Wesen community?" she nodded faintly and Nick continued. "Pretty close. Some people know nearly everyone."

"Do you know those people?" She asked. A wave of nausea hit her, and she closed her eye against the spinning of the room. She could feel Nick move next to her, probably nod, before he spoke up.

"Some of them. I'll ask them. You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah." She took some steady breaths. "I should probably just eat. And maybe-" she couldn't believe she was asking this, "-I have some nausea medication in my bag."

"You have nausea medication." She could hear Hank get up as he talked. He moved to where her bag was. "Something that might've been nice to know."

"That's why I'm telling you." Still her eyes closed, she quirked a brow. "Front pocket. There's granola bars there, too."

A moment later, he pressed a bottle and a bar in her hand. Blindly, she unwrapped the muesli bar and chomped it down, her head not lifting. After, she swallowed down one of the pills. She pressed the glass bottle against her forehead, relishing the cold.

"Does this happen a lot?" Nick asked, worry tinting his voice.

"Occasionally." The medication started to kick in, and she carefully opened her eyes. "The meds usually control it, when I don't forget to take them."

Nick plucked the bottle from her fingers and studied its contents. "These aren't prescription."

"They're homeopathic." She lifted her head. "Can we focus back on the case, now?"

Hank shrugged. "We need to talk to our contacts. There's not much else we can do now."

"All right, then." She opened her laptop again and pulled up the internet. "I'm gonna look into precedents, maybe worldwide. Cast a net, maybe I can find some link to something."

"Right." Nick stood and placed the bottle on the desk, and shrugged on his jacket. "Good luck with that. We'll let you know if Mon- our contact knows something."

They left, and Sean moved past the desk to his own office. In passing, he paused to pick up the bottle.

"Nausea medication, huh?"

She quirked a brow at him. "Old family recipe." It was very hard to contain the smile playing at her lips.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Monroe?" the bell chimed as the detectives entered the shop. Rosalee came to the front. Her smile fell when she saw their serious faces.

"Monroe?" She called out. There was a shuffle in the back. She moved to the counter, arranging some jars. "What happened?"

"Quadruple homicide." Nick said, leaning against the counter. "Twice, now. There's some weird Wesen thing going on."

"When isn't there?" Monroe came walking out the back room, drying his hands. They were slightly tinted purple. "What's going on?"

Hank pulled out his notebook, ready to jot down anything that might be useful.

"What do you know about Dragon Cults?"

Monroe stared at them for a long, long moment before turning to Rosalee. Her mouth was open in disbelief and shock. He turned back to the detectives.

"You're kidding, right?" When they didn't react, he shook his head. "Dragon Cults aren't real."

"Well, they just might be." Hank pulled a face, remembering the bloodbath.

"But... Dragons aren't real." Rosalee moved towards one of the walls where she stored some books, and started looking for the right one. "They're just fairy tale versions of Dämonfeuer."

"We have someone in our holding cell who claims to be one." Nick thought of how Darren had changed into some lizard-like creature, all dark and regal and definitely like nothing he had ever seen. "And he isn't Dämonfeuer."

"No way." Monroe stared at them with wide eyes. "No way!"

Hank sighed. "Real or not, we have eight dead people because of it, so can you just tell us what you know?"

Monroe moved past them, turning the sign on the door to _closed_. "Honestly, there's not much I can tell you. My grandmother always had some interesting stories about them, but they're more legends than actual people. They're supposed to be this ancient race of protectors from Europe that can rip you to shreds without even trying."

"Yeah." Rosalee had found the right book and flipped to a page in the middle. "They're supposed to have this thing with gold, old family fortune or something. According to some stories, they give away coins as a token of friendship, and if you get one, you're protected for life." She showed them the page. It was a fairy tale book with a picture on one of the pages. The creature was greatly embellished and made larger-than-life, a giant lizard person sitting, growling, fangs exposed, on a massive pile of gold. Someone who looked like a Blutbad was kneeling at its feet. It was a fantasy creation, obviously, but the dark scales and bright yellowish eyes were a near-exact match.

"It's him." Nick nodded, and Hank took a closer look as well. "That's Darren."

"Darren?" Monroe shrugged. "Not really an ancient European name."

Hank leafed through his notebook. "His name is H. P. D. Frumplystiltskin, or something. Ah-" He frowned as he read the name. " Frederick Cooper Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth, according to his file."

"Fair enough."

"What do they protect?" Nick asked, handing the book back.

Rosalee placed a paper between the pages, placing the book at an easy-to-reach spot. "Other ancient races, apparently. Royal families, statespeople, anyone who has earned a piece of their gold."

Nick turned to Hank. "Do you think Alexae falls in one of those categories?"

Hank shrugged. "She's his partner. I'd give you my gold if I were an ancient dragon race."

"You're so nice." Nick turned back to Monroe. "What about the cults?" He asked.

"Oh, those guys are nut jobs." Monroe shook his head sadly. "They're these groups that think the dragons are like gods or something, and they'd do anything to please them."

"I once knew a guy that would save every bottle cap he found because he thought they were a part of a dragon's hoard." Rosalee added. "He would fight people over them. Once, I saw him knock a guy out."

"Yeah, they're fanatics." Monroe nodded.

"They murdered four people." Hank commented grimly, scribbling the information down. "Do you know anyone who could be a part of a group like that?"

Rosalee shrugged. "We could ask around, but I don't know."

"Anyone strange come into the shop lately?"

"No." Rosalee thought for a moment. "Or actually, there was someone here last Friday. I'd never seen her before. She asked for some ingredients, and then used our burner to make something. She was nice, and paid and everything, but she didn't want to tell me anything about her, and she knew my name."

"Weird." Hank wrote it down. "Do you have a description of her?"

"Yeah, sure, I-" She leaned against the counter. "She was small, just over five feet. Brown or blond hair, I think, somewhere in between. Uhm, big green eyes, freckles. She seemed young, but... she talked as if she was much older. Maybe somewhere in her late twenties? She was really nice."

Nick narrowed his eyes at her description and pulled out his phone. Quickly, he searched for the photo he had saved from her file and showed Rosalee. "Did she look like this?"

"Yes, that's her."

Nick nodded. "Alexae." He confirmed for the record.

Hank looked up at that. "Why would she need to go _here?_ "

"I don't know." Nick pocketed his phone. "But maybe it has something to do with those _homeopathic_ pills of hers." He sighed. "We have to focus on this case first, though. She'll still be there when we wrap this thing up." As much as he hated to admit it, he was a detective first and a Grimm second, and he had a feeling that the secret his new colleague was hiding was much bigger than he could think right now.


	6. In nomine

Precedents, it turned out, were plenty. Come lunchtime, she had found at least fifteen other cases, dating back to 1900. Some of the files were just scanned hand-written documents, and reading through them, a lot of information was missing. She was dreading the amount of digging she had to do to find some puzzle pieces, let alone put them together. It would take her _days_ to comb through it all, so she hoped she'd find a lead early on. It didn't make it easier that she had almost zero background on the people mentioned in the documents, and she just had to guess at their possible backgrounds. She put her headphones on, turned on the music, and started reading.

_Bureau Rottrdam-Centrum_

_25 februari 1905_

_Verslag inzake de zaak Klaaszen door commandant J. C. Slipman_

_Op de ochtend van donderdag 23 februari van her jaar 1905 om half vijf vonden welgewaardeerde collega's sergeanten Breeda en Muizema de levenloze lichamen van drie leden van de familie Klaaszen. Een vierde lid van de familie, de heer F. W. Klaaszen, bevond zich op dat moment in een huis van bewaring in Delft, in voorarrest op verdenking van een gewapende overval en poging tot moord op de heer Q. H. Abercomby. Voor meer informatie over deze gerelateerde zaak, zie de bijlage één of dossier GA216B in het nationale archief._

_In de volgende middag, de middag van vrijdag 24 februari van het jaar 1905, zijn vier heren gearresteerd op basis van verscheidende bewijsstukken, bijgevoegd onder bijlagen twee tot en met zeven. Alle vier de heren hebben bekend de familie vermoord te hebben. De mannen vertelden dat zij de beschermers en volgers waren van de heer Abercomby. Abercomby echter vermeende van niets te weten en de heren niet te kennen. Zonder verder bewijs voor een connectie tussen de heren en de heer Abercomby is besloten deze niet te vervolgen._

She rubbed her eyes after going through the entire file. There was nothing in there to point to any kind of Wesen activity, and the officers probably didn't even know what they were looking at, but it was a weird coincidence. One posh Englishman, someone who wronged him, a bunch of groupies willing to kill to protect him. She noted down the names she found and continued on to the next document. If there were more cases like this one, more recent ones, the dragon cult could be more dangerous than they realized. If only...

A wrapped sandwich dropped onto the desk. Sean sat down in Hank's chair, taking a bite out of his own.

"You missed breakfast."

"I had a granola bar." She closed her laptop and unwrapped the present. "Thanks."

"Did you find anything?"

"Fifteen probable precedents." She sniffed the sandwich. Cheese and chicken and mustard. Not cheap. "I'm sifting through them now, seeing if I can find anything... Dragon-related." She took a bite. "It would be a lot easier if I had access to Council databases, though. It's like searching for a needle in a haystack, but I have no idea where the haystack is and if there's even a needle in there. Or if we even need a needle."

He chuckled. "Your mind goes weird ways."

She shrugged. "It's hard to keep up, sometimes." She admitted. "If I ever ramble, just stop me."

"I will." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm having a desk placed next to my office. There's not much room anywhere else, and you can work in peace there."

"And I can bug you any time of the day." She smirked at him. "That's a _massive_ benefit."

"On second thought, I'll find a place for you in the basement." He rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, you like me."

"Maybe." He mock-glared at her before brightening up. "You can send me a couple of those files, I'll work over them and see what I can find."

"Sure." She rubbed her eyes again. It was becoming a habit, sadly. "Keep your eyes open for any odd-sounding names, especially British ones. Or-" She paused for a moment, not sure if she should continue. "French ones. Latin ones. _Old_ ones."

"Like _Martín_?" He quirked a brow.

She smirked slightly. "Come on, Martín is one of the most common last names in France. It's like Smith."

"Is that why you chose it?" He asked, "Alexae Martín didn't exist until just before you joined Interpol."

"It's one of the reasons." She picked at her bread. "Did you know it's derived from Mars, god of war? It speaks power, no? My name is Protector of the god of war."

He chuckled. "You're a language nerd."

"I'm a linguistics expert." She nodded, smirking. "It's my job description."

He huffed another laugh. "At least you're self-aware." He checked his watch. "I was thinking about leaving early. Want to get a ride home?"

She shook her head. "I want to finish plowing through these before tomorrow. Have to impress Mr. Grimm or he might book me for assisting in murder, or something."

"I wouldn't let that happen."

"Still, he doesn't like me." She put the half-eaten sandwich aside, opening her computer again. "I need to get on his good side if I want any work done around here, though. Cracking this case would be... ideal."

"He doesn't trust you, but I don't think he doesn't like you." Sean pondered. "I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Bit of a contamination. American. Besides, I'm a light person. Pretty sure you could toss me quite far."

He smirked. "Maybe." His eyes were caught by the necklace gleaming around her neck before they darted back up to her face. "But I severely doubt it."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Together, they worked through the remaining documents pretty quickly. They found names, and events similar to the situation they were in, but no solid connections. She would be able to maybe find something if she had access to her library, but there was no way, not while she was in Portland. For now, she had to content herself with making guesses.

"So." She looked at the different sheets of names spread out on the desk. " _This_ perpetrator from 1905 has a similar last name as this man from 1930, but it's a pretty common one. And this British dude seems to come back thrice, but he was _definitely_ killed _here_ , in '46. Besides, the groupies change every time."

"What about these?" The captain pointed at a group of papers. "This is... '53, '57, '62? All in Italy."

She looked over his shoulder as he picked up the papers. "The names are similar, as well. And five years apart... enough time to get out of a lawsuit, create a new identity, find a new victim. What was the... dragon's name?"

He looked, "Not listed. It just talks about _a man_."

"Odd." She let her eyes roam over all the notes one more time. "Here, this one's from France. '48. Six names mentioned, no dragon."

"There's only three here." The captain noted.

"You don't think... no, it has to be, right?" She turned to her laptop and started typing. "Wasn't there a Great Exile, or something, after the war? Wesen moving to the States _en masse_? You think that's what happened?"

"Could be." Sean nodded. "The war ended, their dragon died, the group split up. The ones in Europe find a new leader, and the ones in the US-"

"-Wait, probably." She turned back to the papers. "There's nothing from America here, and I made sure to check the area twice. No dragon came here until Darren."

"So we're looking for old people?"

"No, I think..." She looked over the papers again. "... They're a cult. I'm not sure if you can call it a religion, but to them, it is, and they're religious fanatics. If they are willing to kill for their cause, they're undoubtedly passing their beliefs on to offspring. We're looking for them, I think."

"So, we're looking for children of three European immigrants that came here after the war. Should be easy."

"We can narrow it down." She said, gathering the papers. "The crime scene was gruesome. We're looking for people who are used to killing, to blood, possibly people who work in a slaughterhouse. Or maybe people with violent pasts, people with violent priors. Also, they're most probably from Italy, since that's where the others seem to have settled. Also-"

"Tomorrow." Sean checked his watch and yawned."We can do all of that when Griffin and Burkhardt are back. For now, I'm going home."

She checked the time on her phone. "Fine. You can give me a swing to the motel, I can work from there."

"Your laptop stays here." He near-ordered, a hint of steel and no-nonsense in his voice. "You need rest. I don't want to repeat what happened this morning."

"I'm not a china doll." She gathered her stuff, but left her laptop where it was. "I don't need a sitter."

"Oh, trust me." He swung his coat around his shoulders as they walked to the elevators. " _I know._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, yeay!  
> Please let me know what you think so far :)
> 
> Rough translation of the Dutch:  
> [[Bureau of Rotterdam-central  
> February 25th, 1905  
> Report about the case Klaaszen by captain J. C. Slipman  
> On the morning of Thursday February 23rd of 1905 at four thirty colleagues Breeda and Muizema found the bodies of three members of the Klaaszen family. A fourth member, F. W. Klaaszen, was incarcerated in Delft at the time, under suspicion of the robbery and attempted murder on Mr Q. H. Abercomby. For more information about this case, see the attachments or the file in the archive.  
> In the following afternoon Friday February 24th of 1905, four men were arrested based on the evidence at hand. All four confessed to murdering the family. The men claimed to be the protectors and followers of Abercomby. Abercomby, however, claimed to know nothing of the men. Without any further evidence linking Abercomby to the men, he will not be pursued.]]


	7. Exactam

_His body was numb, frozen in place as they had positioned him. The whimpers that filled the air hurt his heart, but he wasn't sure if they were his or hers. Oh, please, let them be his. Let her be sleeping, let her be okay, let her survive-_

_He couldn't convince himself. He knew, deep down, that they were dead. They all were. Why else would he be here? Why would they come in like that? Take them, position them like puppets in their sadistic game?_

_Blood. The smell was sickening. It wasn't his, so it must be hers. That made it worse. So, so much worse._

_He heard a crunch. He didn't want to know._

_His tear ducts were still working, at least._

_They came into his vision, all three of them. They were blurry, at first, but then the tears rolled down and all became clear._

_Their faces were scrunched up in pure fury. One was talking, but his head was filled with cotton fuzz._

_One kneeled down, knife gleaming in the lamplight. He did something to him._

_He was dying. He knew it._

_They stood there, leering, watching him._

_He closed his eyes._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

On Tuesday morning, they lay all the gathered evidence out on the desks and tried to link them up. The detectives spent the first half hour printing and setting out every detail they had found about the old cases, at Alexae's request. After less than an hour, she was sitting in the middle of it, arranging things the right way as the connections came to her. She mostly ignored the room around her, muttering her thought process to herself as she worked. Every once in a while, she would hold a document up in the air, silently requesting another copy, and the men would comply.

At some point, Sean started moving back and forth between looking over her shoulder and writing her findings on a whiteboard. They were acquiring quite a list, narrowing down the options further and further.

After the hour and a half mark, when they felt they were nearing the finish line, Nick's phone rang, and after a short conversation, he went to pick up the coroner's report. He handed it to her before anyone else, and she leafed through it, a concentrated brow between her brows.

"I'll need the knife." She said, handing the file to the captain to read and looking back down at the papers on the floor. "The _probable_ knife, whatever. The fragment they found in-"

Nick dropped a little evidence bag in front of her. She looked up at him, a small smirk forming.

"You're learning, detective."

She look the bag and looked at the gleaming metal inside. The coroner had cleaned it, but there were still some dark-red marks left in the creases. It was some sort of metal, inscribed with what seemed like runes, the fragment too small to really say what it was. She frowned at the runes, turning the metal against the light to see if she could discern them. No luck.

"Do you have gloves?" She asked to no one in particular. Hank looked around him briefly and shrugged.

"It's already swiped and cleaned, you can just hold it."

She looked at the piece again and took a deep breath.

"I'd rather not." After another moment, she opened the bag and reached in. She lifted the piece to the light and seemed to freeze for a moment, eyes scrunched shut. Then, she opened them and looked at the runes up close, tilting the piece back and forth. She dropped it back into the bag and picked three papers from the ground.

"It's these ones." She concluded. "Arrest them." The captain took the papers and she stood up, her joints creaking from staying in the same position for too long. She interlocked her hands and stretched to her toes, rocking back and forth a bit.

Sean looked down at the papers before handing them off. "We'll have men at the ready for when we get the warrant."

Nick frowned at the names. "Why them?" He asked, scanning through all their information. "They have no-"

"-Priors, perfect citizens, blah, blah, blah." She picked up the evidence bag. "The coroner was right, this is a piece of a knife. It's handmade, hand-carved with an old language. This takes skill and knowledge. This guy's dad was a blacksmith, but he went into pig farming, a killing profession. _This_ guy-" She pointed at the second picture, "He's real smart. Changed majors three times, one of which was ancient languages. He'll still have books about how to write the runes. And the last one..." She quirked a brow up at him. "He's just a jerk." She held the papers as well, slightly crumpling between her fingers. "And all of them, right now, are plotting the murder of another innocent family and we have to stop them before they strike again, and you could've already been in the car and we could've been having this conversation over the phone if _you'd just trust me_." She let go of the papers, looking up at him with fire in her eyes. "I'm going to be here for a while, Mr. Grimm, so we'd better get used to each other."

Hank regarded her from behind them. She seemed to radiate something, something that came off of her in invisible waves. It was dark, and dangerous, and he knew Nick and the Captain would be picking up on it even more than he did. This woman was much more than she seemed, holding something back from them that might just be bigger than all of them. Hank could feel it in his bones, and he hoped that Nick, standing so close to the source, felt it too.

The Captain scraped his throat and she stepped back, gesturing for them to pass. Nick looked at her for one more second before coming to some sort of conclusion, nodding to himself. He picked one paper and took his car keys, handing the other papers to Wu to take care of.

Alexae watched them leave before she looked at the floor, for the first time with a clear head.

"Oh, _merde_ , I need to clean this up."

"You do." Sean pulled out his phone and started dialing the DA. "Your desk will be brought up sometime before lunch time." He put the phone to his ear. "Don't forget your meds."

She stared at him as he moved to his office. The door clicking in the door sounded like a slam in her ears.

She sunk to her knees and started collecting papers.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The man they were following, the son of the blacksmith, a man named William Amato, was waiting for them at the door. He didn't seem to be armed, though; he greeted them with a kind smile, hands clasped behind his back.

"Mister Burkhardt, I've been expecting you. Please," He stepped aside, "Come in, come in, bring your friend."

Hank followed them wearily, his hand on his holster.

"Why were you expecting me?" Nick asked, also slightly weary.

"Oh, it's obvious, isn't it?" The man led them to the living room. "I just sacrificed a family for a Dragon, and you're a Grimm, so you're here to make me pay."

"Is that a confession?" Hank curled his fingers around the butt of his gun, unclasping the strap holding it in place. There was no way this could end well, the man was clearly delusional.

"Yes!" The man twirled in place, arms wide. "I killed those people! So, Mr. Grimm..." His tone darkened as he turned to face them again. "... go ahead and kill me."

He Woged, his form growing sleeker and his face turning to be more snake-like. His lizard tongue shot out before he took a deep breath, spitting a fireball to their faces. They ducked out of the way, pulling their guns and ducking for cover.

"Hank?!"

"I noticed, yeah!" Hank pointed his gun at the creature. "Are they bulletproof?!"

"Nope." Nick fired off a round of bullets, but he didn't have a clear shot from behind the cabinet where he was sitting. "You have a shot?" Another fireball crashed against the wall above him, and he hunched over further.

Hank fired the saving shot. He aimed for the chest, and the creature went down like a big tree.

When they got out of their covers, the man was laying dead on the floor.

"Well." Nick holstered his gun. "That was weird."

"Yeah." Hank shook his head, chuckling in unbelief. "You owe Alex a drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of the story so far! :)


	8. The new normal

In the following week, things seemed to settle down. Nick and Hank took Alexae to lunch to thank her, and they found she was actually a pretty normal person. They came to some sort of unspoken truce, and after, she didn't comment on their stupidity as much anymore, she didn't crowd their personal space, didn't try to command them just as much and kept a safe distance. In return, Nick tried to trust her, tried to act as if he didn't think she was hiding something. It wasn't quite peace, but they could make it work.

She settled at her desk on Wednesday. She left her laptop there, unpacked most of her bag into the drawers, and placed the bottle of pills in a corner, under an upside-down Portland PD mug. She came in early Thursday morning, carrying coffees for the detectives and Sgt. Wu, moving into the captain's office with the last two cups.

"We need to talk." She kicked the door shut behind her, closing it with an elbow.

The captain eyed the coffee. "Am I in trouble?"

"You tell me." She placed a cup on the desk and sat down in one of the chairs, legs sling over one of the armrests. "I want to discuss hierarchy." She sipped her coffee and made a face at the taste.

He regarded her for a moment, and leaned forward to take the cup. "Do you want my office?"

"No." She paused, watched his hand as he took a sip. "No, the desk is good. I just... If I'm sticking around, I need to know where I'm standing."

He looked at her, studied her as they drank their coffee. She stretched, leaned back and against the backrest as if she belonged there. She seemed to think the room was hers, even when she claimed she didn't want it. He stood, closed the blinds, closing them off from the world.

"The DA looks at Darren's case today." He said, the light from behind him casting ominous shadows. "Even if he's acquitted, I'm not letting him in here. He's a murderer."

She hummed. "There's a fair chance Nick will kill him himself. It's in his nature."

"He's not like that." The Captain frowned. "Is that what this is about? Nick?"

"No, it's about _hierarchy_. I need to know what stripes I can stand on, what rank I can pull." She hung her head back. "Not everything is about something else."

"Yeah, but you're not exactly straight-forward." He smiled at her. "So what _is_ it about? Nick? Darren? Me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. As for Darren, _you_ keep bringing him up. But we'll figure something out. Usually, one of us works the police force while the other works the... community." She accompanied the word with a vague wave of her hand. "He'll find a place to set up shop, don't worry."

"So not him, then." The Captain walked around her, prowled, watching her intently as he circled. "And not me, or Nick..." He sat down on the edge of his desk, squarely in front of her. "... so that leaves _you_."

" _Yes_!" She threw her arms up in frustration, nearly tipping the cup in her hand. "Yes! It's about me, you _utter_ -" She froze when she saw his smirk. "Oh, balls. You bum!" She tried her best to stay mad, but it was nearly impossible when he was laughing. "Yes. I _need_ the hierarchy, Sir. It helps me... function. Think. Besides, it makes it easier to perform my duties. I'm from an entirely different _system_ , and I know where I'm at _there_ , but here, I'm lost, I don't know, and it doesn't make me feel any better than if I'd been-"

He leaned forward, took the cup from her gesturing hands and placed it on the table next to him. It was enough to silence her. She looked up at him frowning, confused.

"Breathe." He ordered, tone gentle. "Take a moment."

"I'm not-" She took a deep breath, and another. "It would just really help me to know."

"All right, then." He handed the cup back. "Let's make a deal." He took a sip from his own cup. "As long as you're here, you'll need a driver, someone who knows the city, the community. As long as you work here, you'll need a partner. And it wouldn't hurt me to do a little footwork, so..." He raised his cup, "Partners?"

She smiled, touched the Styrofoam together. "Partners." She nodded. "Equals."

"Equals." He agreed.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

He took her out to dinner again on Thursday, to celebrate her being in the city for a full week. She didn't really want to, but he convinced her that she _really_ should find out what other cuisines the Americans had ruined. So, they went to an Indian place and she had a sweet curry as he teased her about not having spicy food, and they talked more. It was easy, comfortable, and  despite everything, they laughed. Sean talked about the Community, about his apartment, and in turn, she talked about her office back in England, about her previous job in Italy, about anywhere else she'd traveled. By silent agreement, they didn't mention family, or any time before England. She didn't ask about his past, and he left hers alone, as well.

The restaurant closed at ten thirty, and after, he brought her back to the motel.

"Maybe you should think about getting an apartment." He suggested, eyeing the cracked walls and doors with fading paint. "Maybe in a nicer neighborhood."

She sighed, trotting up the stairs to her room. "Maybe when this thing with Darren is over. He usually does things like that. I don't-" She stopped herself. "We'll think about it."

He looked at her, studied her with the keen eye of a detective. She was looking away.

"Okay, I have to ask." They were approaching her room, and he was slowing their pace. "You and him, you're not... right?"

"No." She looked down, under the guise o searching for her keys. "We're not _fraternizing_. We've been friends since... forever, though. We've been doing everything together for about as long, too."

"All right." He leaned against the wall next to her door, giving her room to unlock it. "And you're..." He took a moment to find a term that would give her the right subtext. "... _equals_? You have a healthy relationship?"

She looked up at him briefly, shaking her head with a smile. "Are you asking me what I think you're asking me? Because Darren isn't abusing me."

He shrugged, moving aside a bit to give her some light from a nearby streetlight. "I had to ask. You live together, work together, and you were just about to say he controls your money. It wouldn't be unheard of."

"Sean." She bumped her shoulder into the door and it unlatched with a soft click. She kept mirroring his pose, though, looking up at him sincerely. "Darren treats me like a fucking _queen_. He adores me. He would give me anything I could wish for, and he'd do anything for me. Hell, he fell on his sword to get me out of prison, even though I'd get out of there as easy as he is about to. But-" She bit her lip, looked out over the parking lot. Sean leaned down a bit, making sure he could see her face in the faint light. She was obviously struggling with something, mulling over something in her mind. Suddenly, she turned back to him, met his eyes, determined, almost fierce.

Pleading, maybe.

"There are some complications." She admitted, not breaking away from his gaze. "In my past. It's best if I don't have much of a paper trail."

"What kind?" He asked, voice soft. This was obviously something big, everything in her told him that.

She offered him a smile, meant to be cheeky, but coming off more sad. "Isn't it obvious?" She asked, standing up and opening the door. "The kind that means you need a fake name and no credit cards."

He nodded, standing straight as she entered the room and turned to say goodbye, door only ever opened to a crack. He grabbed the door above her head, making sure she didn't close it.

"I know this is new," he said, trying to look as sincere as he felt. "But if anything ever happens, or if Darren _does_ do something, you can trust me. I'm your partner now." He offered it with a slight smile. "You can come to me with anything, yeah? Anything."

She smiled at him, seemingly relived. "Got it, yes." Her smile grew a bit bigger. "Thank you." She looked behind her at the room, then turned back. "Thanks for bringing me home."

He tipped an invisible hat, grinning. "Anytime." His hand reached down to the doorknob. "Goodnight, Ms Martín."

"Goodnight, Mr. Renard." The door closed. Pushed or pulled, neither was quite sure. It didn't really matter, anyway. It was closed, and after a moment, his footsteps retreated back to his car, leaving her alone in the dark.

Alone in the motel room, hopefully for the last time.

She sighed, dropped down on the bed, and closed her eyes. After half a bottle of wine, sleep came easier than she'd hoped.


	9. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two quick chapters before we make a little time jump! It's time for a bit of lore and mystery :)

Friday brought salvation, in more ways than one. Darren was released from custody, and he took Alex out to lunch to celebrate. They spent most of the afternoon catching up with each other and with Interpol business. They took some time to clean up their room and do their laundry. They went out to buy some foodstuffs and other necessities, and for the first time since they arrived, they made sure they had things in order. She brought him up to speed about Nick and the Captain, and about the case they had just solved. He'd frowned when he heard about the cult, but decided it was an issue for another day. He took a shower, then cleaned the bathroom top-to-bottom with bleach, muttering that the place was filthy all the time.

"We need a mailbox." She suggested from her spot on the bed. She'd learned long ago not to get in his way when he got like this. "If we're gonna be here a while."

He hummed, working the tiled floor with a scourer. "I'll look into it." He bent down low, frowning at the creases between the tiles. "Hey, do you think we could have black mold?"

"Not after all that bleach. You killed everything in there but yourself. And it's questionable if you're ever going to stand up again." She sat up, grabbing her laptop. "You think there's anything to do around here?"

"There's a zoo, I think." He sat back on his haunches, surveying his work. "Probably some hiking trails. This area is perfect for Blutbad packs."

She hummed. "There was a Blutbad in the spice shop the captain sent me to." She noted. "I think his name is Monroe. The place reeked of him. Apparently, he's a bit _something_."

He chuckled. "Aren't they all? Wait." He turned to look at her. "First or last name?"

"Yes." She smirked. "Never met him, so no clue. The woman that works there smelt like him a lot, too, though. I think she's _reinard-_ Fuchsbau." She frowned at the sound of the word. She wouldn't be using that term again anytime soon. "Hard to tell, though. Wolves are like massive scented candles."

"I don't envy you." He dumped another load of bleach on the tiles. "All these people, stinking up the place." He scrubbed the floor a bit harder. "Leaving their _scent_ everywhere, floating in the wind..."

" _You're_ stinking up the place." She closed the laptop, jumped off the bed. "I'm going out."

"Where to?" He stopped scrubbing, unfurled from the floor.

"I don't know yet." She shrugged into her coat. "Taking a walk."

" _Where to_?" He stretched to his full height, voice slightly raised. She turned to him, eyebrow quirked. Her hand was already on the doorknob.

"Out." She opened the door. "Want to stop me?"

He looked at her, eyes darting over her face. "Never." He assured her. "You have your phone?"

"Fully charged." She smiled at him. "Thank you."

"I'll call you about dinner." He called after her. She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind herself.

Freedom, at last.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Sean sat at his desk, working through the pile of snail mail that had accumulated over the week. It had something calming, he had to admit. Normally, he'd take care of any letters as they came in, but he hadn't had the time this week. Rubbing his face, he looked out of his window, to the new desk just outside his office. He hadn't had much time for anything, really.

He wondered why.

Two quadruple homicides in a week. That had to be a first. He couldn't even remember the last time they had a quadruple homicide in Portland, let alone two connected ones. All because of... _those two_. He wasn't quite sure what to think about them. Or, _her_ , at least. He figured he had _him_ figured out pretty well.

He was a ponce. One of those British dicks that were raised rich and smart as well, and that thought the whole world was theirs because everything was handed to them. He might be Wesen, but that didn't change a thing. He was royalty, and he would let it be known. Sean had seen it with his brothers and cousins, growing up, and he didn't like it one _bit_. The world needed less assholes.

 _Her,_ though... There was something about her. Something in the her eyes, her words the way she held herself. Something... _deliberate_. As if the whole thing, the accent, the jokes, the rambling, was nothing more than an act. Though, the way he'd had to calm her down, the rambling was probably real.

She had said she was from a... traditional environment. Maybe that had something to do with it, maybe the poise and the accent were supposed to be _ladylike_. Maybe the way she bent her shoulders, rounded her back only to straighten it, square her shoulders and lift her chin to seem inches taller, was how she switched between _manners_ and _fury_.

He doubted the answer would be that simple, though.

He could see it in her eyes. That look, that hidden _thing_ behind all the surface emotions. Something lodged deep within her soul. It looked eerily like something he'd seen before, a long time ago.

He sighed, put down his papers and pulled out his phone.

He really should call his mother.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 _Serenity_. The sweet scent of the trees drifted up to her, the smell of flowers lacing the air with warmth. The sun was basking down, painting everything in bright colors and bringing out the birds, the wildlife, the bees buzzing in the fields.

 _Nature is beautiful_. She sighed happily, looking at the branches surrounding her. Somewhere, deep beneath her, she could hear movement in the silence of the forest. If she stayed still enough, they would move closer, she wouldn't startle them. They wouldn't even notice she was there.

She held her breath, not moving a muscle. The scurrying came closer, until she heard sniffling right beneath her. She dared to crane her neck, peek down between the leaves.

Deer. Actual, real-life deer. As she watched, a stag approached. She held in the noises she wanted to make. A deer family. An actual deer _family_ , looking for food beneath her. And it was complete and the mother wasn't dead, not shot by a hunter like in _Bambi_. They seemed happy, healthy. Nature is _amazing_.

She lost her balance, and had to jump down a branch. The deer heard her, scattered off. It didn't matter. She would find another tree, somewhere else, and sooner or later, some other animal would come. She was in a forest; everything around her was breathing pulsing with life. Sooner or later, she'd meet a rabbit. Maybe a moose. She wasn't quite sure what creatures roamed the Oregon forests.

 _Oregon_. "Oregon." She breathed the name, tasted it on her tongue. "Portland, Oregon." It didn't quite sound right. Nothing ever _really_ sounded right with that accent.

"Portland, Oregon." She tried to mimic Hank's accent, be more American. It did sound better, more natural. Maybe she should adopt the accent a bit, adapt to the locals.

"I am in Portland, Oregon." She said, a bit louder, this time, testing the accent. "Hi. Alexae Martín, Portland police department." She frowned. It didn't quite sound right. Her name was too foreign.

"Hello. Alex Martin, I'm with Portland PD."

Well. It was butchering her chosen name into mince, but it would be effective for fitting in.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

Right?


	10. Paperwork

Come Monday morning , she paraded into the office fresh and happy, with more gifts of coffee. She handed one to Wu in passing, then moved to Hank's and Nick's desks, only finding one person there.

She handed Hank his coffee, then looked at the two remaining cups in her tray, frowning. "Where's Nick?"

Hank shrugged. "Doing best man stuff. I think they're shopping for a suit today."

"Exciting." She sat down on Nick's desk, offering him a smile. "Who's getting married?"

"Monroe." He said, then frowned slightly. "You don't know him."

 _I think I will soon._ "Still exciting, though." She stood. "Well, good luck starting your day alone. I'm off." She marched to her own desk and rapped the window to the Captain's office.

"Coffee."

"Talk."

His voice was clear loud, but not angry, so she rolled her eyes and entered his office, plopping down on the chair and placing the coffee on the desk. "So?"

"Coffee again?" He smiled at her. Grabbed both cups, sniffed placed one down again. She looked at it, swallowed.

"Please next time just ask me." She dug through her pockets, found an old rubber glove and snapped it on. He quirked a brow at her.

"Why?" He sipped his coffee.

She sighed. "I have this... thing. Sorry. I'm not a big fan of people... touching... things."

"Right." He said, nodding. He was doing a pretty good job pretending he understood. "That makes... sense."

She sipped her cup. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"Paperwork." He moved his chair back a bit, opening a drawer. She made a face. "If you're going to be solving cases here, I need to approve you for certain things." He placed an unopened box of rubber gloves on his desk for her to take. "You need clearance to access all the files, make arrests, carry a firearm-"

"No." She ripped open the box, pulled out a new set of gloves and put her old one on the desk. "I don't like guns, I can wait for proper people to show up for arrests, and I can ask anyone here for information. No paperwork needed."

He quirked a brow, opening a file on his computer. "Name?"

"I really don't  see the use-"

"But I do. Name?"

She sighed, throwing her head back dramatically. "Alexae Martín. With a e, like in Latin."

"Is that your full name?" He sipped his coffee, not looking at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I never invented middle names for myself. I was thinking of going by Alex Martin, fit in a bit more."

He hummed, quirked a brow. "Like the accent." He remarked. "Education?"

She stayed silent for  moment. "I... passed the Interpol entrance exam."

"And before that?" He stopped typing, but still looked at his screen. It was probably a privacy thing.

"Before that, Alexae didn't exist." She sighed. He already knew too much about her, anyway, a little bit more didn't really matter. "But from a _knowing your partner_ perspective... I spent some time sneaking into lectures in Europe. I probably know enough to have a college degree in most sciences. And linguistic stuff, of course. And I grew up with code breaking."

"Interesting childhood." He mumbled, before moving on to the next question. "Age?"

"You've seen my ID."She rolled her eyes. "You know how old Alexae is."

"What about you?"

She blinked at him. "Where I'm from, you don't ask a lady's age."

"You're a lady?" He met her eyes and smirked before focusing back on the computer. "Do you have any other licenses, permits, anything?"

"I didn't even give her a college degree." She rubbed her face. The nitrile was itchy, weird on her skin. She downed her coffee in one go and snapped them off, dumping them in the cup. "I know how to do a lot of things, but not officially. I _know_ how to drive a car, how to brew pot-poisons, how to do all kinds of stuff, just not _officially._ "

"... And you don't want to break any laws by doing those things anyway." It wasn't a question, or a statement. It was an order, plain and simple. "Do you know how to shoot a gun?"

"I do. I prefer traditional weapons, though."

"... traditional?" Sean frowned at her. "Bow and arrow?"

She shrugged. "I had a crossbow growing up." She told him. "I would hunt in the... forests near my house."

"Right." He started typing again. "And where was your house? Growing up?"

"France." She swallowed. He knew much, but he didn't need to know _everything_. "Small town, you wouldn't know it."

" _Try me._ "

She looked at him for a long minute. "I believe Martín is from Paris. We should probably stick to the file."

"All right." He rolled away from his computer, placed the keyboard to the side a bit and focused all his attention on her. "Forget the paperwork for a moment. Forget _this_." He placed his badge on the desk. "You are my partner. I need to be able to trust you when we're doing field work."

She huffed at him. "You want me to forget _this?_ " She asked, gesturing around them, "Ignore this _building_ , the people out there, this office, this-" she slammed her fist on an armrest, "-this chair? Just like that? I don't think so." She leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "But I can tell you you can trust me. With or without a gun, if something happens, I will have your back. You don't need to know my detailed history for that. Okay?"

"You're not getting a gun." He took back his badge. "How do I know you're not going to stab me in the back?"

"I don't have a knife." She opened the jacket she was wearing, ran her hands over her sides to prove it. "Besides, you're the one asset I have in here. If I kill you, the entire department would turn against me. And..." She smiled shyly up at him. "...I like you. You're a nice person. You feed me. Anyone who feeds me is a good person in my book. "

He chuckled. "You're a _freaking_ cat." He concluded.

She laughed along, a bit awkwardly. "If you say so."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

_To Special Officer Mr. F. C. D. Duncombe-Aylesworth,_

_I am writing you concerning a series of unfortunate recent events that seem to have transpired under your,_ _Special Officer Mr F. C. D. Duncombe-Aylesworth_ _, and your partner in operations_ _Special Officer Ms. A. Martín_ _'s supervision in the area of_ _Portland, Oregon_ _._

_In light of the particular circumstances, the Department of Internal Affairs has decided to avoid your prosecution in the_ _American_ _legal system. However, with any transgression above a level 2 misdemeanor, you are required to explain yourself to the Internal Board of Peers. For any charge above a level 2 felony, you are required to appear in front of the Internal Board of Peers in person, to answer any possible queries and to defend your position as a_ _Special Officer_ _of the department of_ _International Crimes_ _. You are expected to contact the_ _London department office_ _to make an appointment within_ _4 weeks_ _of your incident._

_To reiterate, the incidents that you will be questioned for are:_

_Killed 4 people in self-defence._

_Sincerely,_

  1. _B. F. F. Holmes_



_Head of Internal Operations Interpol._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! Please leave a comment telling me what you think thus far :)


	11. Friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a ten-chapter set-up, time to dive in!  
> (A.K.A. Time for act 2)

"We have a case." Sean met her at the elevator as she was exiting it, pushing her back in by the shoulders. He pressed the button for the parking garage, and as the door closed, he picked one of the two coffees from her tray. After nearly two months of mostly paperwork and interviewing suspects for Interpol , and then two murder cases because Sean could see she was going crazy with pent-up mental energy just sitting behind a desk, they had gotten pretty accustomed to each other.

He now just always took the coffee nearest to him.

"Where are we headed, then?" She looked up at him, smiling. She would never admit it to him, but she _loved_ field work. She didn't think she had to admit, honestly. He knew her well enough to know.

"A woman was murdered in the- church, or temple she worked at. Nick and Hank are already there, they want a second opinion, make sure it's not another cult thing."

"So they're asking for _me_ , not you." She smirked at him. "Nice."

"Hey." He fake-glowered at her. "You're not getting anywhere without your driver."

"You're right." She sipped her coffee. "We're a package deal, partner." She frowned at him. "Did you-"

He pulled her bottle of pills from somewhere and shook it. The few ones left rattled in their confinements. "You're running on empty."

"I'll have to see Rosalee soon." She sighed. "It doesn't really help that she knows Nick. By now, they've probably figured out who I am."

"And why would you care?" He turned the bottle in his hand. "It's just nausea medication, right?"

"Not helping." She shook her head. "Maybe if I say it's for Darren. But in that case, Nick can't ever see them, and it's too late for that."

"You'll find a way." He pocketed the pills. "You're a smart kid"

"I'm not-" She sighed at his smirk. "Whatever."

The elevator doors opened and they walked to his car. He opened the door for her, as always, and then moved to the driver's side. He handed her his coffee before putting the car into gear.

_A blonde. Smiling, biting her lip._

She shook the thought off before he could notice. "So... A temple?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her as he turned out into the street. "Nick didn't really say much more."

"Awesome." She hissed a sigh. "Let's hope it's one of the good ones."

Sean hummed. She turned on the radio, and they spent the rest of the trip in silence. She watched the city roll by. The city she still doesn't know, the one he seems to know so well. She glanced at the interior of the car. He had one of those fancy models, with SatNav, but she couldn't remember him ever turning it on. He just knew where to go.

And it wasn't just navigation. The way he walked, talked, he seemed to always be one step ahead of the rest. So sure of himself, all the time. She smiled to herself. _He'd fit right in with Darren, if they'd just talk_. She closed her eyes briefly, a slow blink as reality came crashing in. She shoved it away, for now. They had a case. Cases always came first.

They pulled into a parking lot, and she tried to reel in her train of thought. "Hey, Sean?" She asked as he parked the car.

"Yeah?" He got out the car, and she followed him, leaving the cups in her seat.

"We've... done a lot together in the past weeks, no?"

"Yes?" He looked over his shoulder, frowning, curious. Obviously, he couldn't really follow her thought process.

She fell in step behind him. "And we've grown close, no?"

"...Yes?" He rounded a corner to what seemed to be a normal block of houses, crime scene ribbons bordering off the front yards.

"Would you say we're friends?"

"Definitely." He held up the ribbon for her, then led them to the middle house. " Of course we're friends. Why do you ask."

"I-" She swallowed around the words. He opened the door for her, and she stopped on the doorstep, meeting his eyes. "I need to ask you something."

He smiled down softly, obviously seeing the distress in her face, and grabbed her shoulder. "Later, okay? Let's tackle this, first." He gently pushed her inside.

There was a small hallway. It wasn't more than seven feet long, with room to hang coats on one side and a small chest of drawers on the other. The floor seemed to be made from some sort of black marble, and the walls were a painted dark charcoal, with a clean mirror hanging above the drawers. The high ceiling was painted white. On the far end, an oak door was firmly shut.

_Uh, oh._

She let out a long breath as she stood, frozen, taking in the small room. She barely registered the Captain still standing close behind her as she turned, slowly. She reached for one of the pieces of cloth littering the chest of drawers, and let it pass through her hands as gravity unfolded it. It was a sheer navy blue. A veil.

Without thinking, she raised her hands, draping the cloth over her hair and around her shoulders. She ignored the mirror. She was sure she couldn't handle it, right now.

Sean touched her shoulder. "All right?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. She looked at him, a little lost, but then managed to nod. It didn't really seem to reassure him.

She offered a weak smile. "Lead the way, boss."

He took the few steps to the oak door, and pushed it open. She followed closely, taking in the next room before stepping over the threshold.

_Oh, no. No, no,no,no._ _This is not happening._


	12. templum altum

The room was even higher than the last one, at least two tall stories that had been broken through. The walls were painted white, the windows covered with floor-to-ceiling scarlet drapes. There were doors hidden behind those drapes as well, she knew.

There was a pathway from the door to an altar at the end of the big room, with rows of pews on both sides. Nick and Hank were standing to the right of the altar, talking to a man in what looked like Catholic priest robes. Sean strode the way to the altar, and she slowly followed. Almost unconsciously, she squared her shoulders, straightened her back with every step. Kept her head low, not daring to look past her feet.

The altar came close. It was a block of black marble rising from the white stone floor, a few golden candle stands illuminating the single red pillow that lay in the middle of the slab. In the far-right corner was what seemed like a golden lighter.

Nick and Hank broke up the conversation as they came close, and she finally dared to drag her gaze up. The man _was_ dressed in a priest's robe, complete with white collar. He looked to be somewhere in his late forties, the once raven hairs of his hair and slight beard were speckled with a few stray grey hairs. She stood behind Sean as she watched him, sized him up. Hopefully, he wouldn't see her.

Nick stepped aside a bit to allow them into the circle. "This is our police captain, Sean Renard." He introduced. Sean shook his hand politely, and stepped away from her.

"Pleased to meet you." The priest greeted, bowing a little as he shook his hand. He had a soft voice, and a light European accent. He turned to her, next. The moment he saw her face, his brown eyes widened. "Oh, this-"

She placed her fist over her heart and bowed in a formal greeting. "Alex Martin, I'm a consultant for the Portland PD." She quickly introduced herself, making sure not to slip back into her old accent. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He let out an amazed breath. "So you are." He whispered. He placed his hand on his chest, bowing deep. "Father Peter. The pleasure is all mine."

Hank poked Nick in the ribs. " _Celibacy_." He whispered.

Nick chuckled.

Sean quirked a brow at them. "So what happened here? Why did you call us in?"

"Ah, yes." The priest folded his hands, face a perfect picture of empathy. "A true tragedy. This morning when I came in to light the candles and prepare for morning prayer service, I found sister Fredericka in the back room, her-" Tears formed in his eyes, voice breaking. "I performed Last Rites and called the police."

"Okay, I'm sorry for probably asking the same questions twice, but why was sister Fredericka here?" Alexae crossed her arms, mimicking the Captain's pose. She needed to be a detective, now.

He nodded at her question, frowning a bit as he thought. "Frederica does several cleaning tasks here. She launders, keeps the robes dust free, restocks the candles. Little tasks like that. She has a key, often comes by late at night to do little things." He smiled wistfully, turned his head to the back room. "We'll need to find someone else for that, now."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll manage."

"When did you find the body?" The captain asked.

"Around eight this morning." He gestured to the back room, eyes flicking between the two. "Do you want to...?"

"Oh, no." She offered him a small smile. "You guys go ahead. I think I will look around here for a moment, if you don't mind."

"Of course." He nodded at her and, with one last bow in her direction, lead the way to the back room.

"Nick?" She asked, turning to the men when the others were out of earshot. "Why am I here? This seems like a pretty straightforward case."

Nick shrugged. "There's something about this place. I don't trust it."

"Yeah, it..." Hank glanced around. The priest had left the room with Sean. "...It reminds us a bit too much of the _other_ case. The priest is... weird, as well. I mean, he found the body and waited at least forty minutes before he called the police."

"Of course he did, he's a religious fanatic." She twirled in place, then moved towards the altar. Now that she was over the initial shock, and the priest was gone, it wasn't as scary. It was just a cold slab of stone. "Any priest would do last rites before doing anything else." She turned to look at them over her shoulder. "Do you guys even _do_ religion? It's basic knowledge."

"Not everyone-"

"Lexie!" Sean didn't quite shout, but his voice carried far through the room, bouncing against the walls and echoing back at them. She turned to him sharply, biting her tongue.

"Coming." She knew her voice would carry just as well the other way. "Don't shout, this is a place of worship. Show some respect, you stupid American."

The priest looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes, obviously trying hard not to laugh. "Couldn't have said it better, Miss."

She nodded at him shyly, then turned to Sean. "What's up?"

He gestured to the woman on the floor. "What do you think?"

The woman was laying face-down in a puddle of her own blood, an irregular round hole parting her hair. Killed execution style.

"Well, it obviously wasn't Peter." She stated. "He would've used a knife."

The priest huffed. "I could _never_ -"

"But if you _would_ , you'd use a knife." She quirked a brow at him, then turned back to the body. "Hard to see from here, but I'm guessing she won't have bruises on her knees. No abrasions on her arms, either, so she wasn't restrained, and I'm guessing then angle of the entry wound will confirm that." She turned to Sean. "Someone she knew and trusted. Someone who'd be here at night. I'm thinking... friend? Partner, maybe?"

"That's what I thought as well." Sean nodded. "Anything else?"

She frowned for a moment, turning a full circle to take in the entire room. It was some sort of storage room, with cloaks and robes and all kinds of stuff lining the walls. "This is quite a way  away from the front door." She noticed. "Do you know if she locked the door when she was in here?"

Peter nodded. "Always, she was starting to lose her hearing. She didn't want to take any risks." He frowned as he looked down at the body. "I guess it didn't matter, in the end."

"It didn't." She agreed, "And it didn't matter that she was here." After a moment's hesitation, she grabbed him at the shoulders and looked deeply into his sad, guilt ridden eyes. "This would have happened anyway. This was planned, premeditated, and whoever did this would have killed Fredericka in some other way, some other place, if she hadn't been here." She resisted the urge to shake him a little. "You, and her work here, have _nothing_ to do with her death. Yeah?"

He stared down at her, startled. "Yeah. Got it."

"Good." She turned back to the body. "Whoever did this had a key, then."

"I have a list of people somewhere in my office." Peter offered. "Should I get it?"

"Please." Sean smiled at him. "I'll come with you." As he passed her when they left the room, he pressed the small bottle of pills into her hands.

"Don't strain yourself."

It was a whisper, nothing more, and she wasn't even entirely sure if he'd actually said it. Before she could ask, though, he was gone, back into the main hall of the temple, disappeared behind the curtain.

She decided to drop it, and dropped herself down near the body. Her body nearly vibrating with pent-up energy, she slowly reached her hand to the head wound.

She took a deep breath, then dived.


	13. Hunches

_Vanilla-scented candles. Shaving off the droplets that would never melt, dusting off the robes that would never be worn. There was a knock on the doorpost. Turn. Smile._

_"Hi! I thought I'd be the only one tonight."_

_"Just dusting." Smile. "Father Peter never says, but he likes it when the robes are-"_

_Pain._

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you all right?" Nick looked at her worriedly from his spot at the door. She blinked up at him, then forced herself to stand up. Her knees popped. How long had she been down there?

"Fine." Behind her back, she shook loose a pill. "Bit nauseous. I'll live." She swallowed it, and slipped the rest of the bottle into a pocket. "Where's the Captain? Hank?"

"They're looking at the priest's office." He pointed over his shoulder, behind him. "I figured I'd see what happened to you."

"I'm fine." She assured him. "Do you know if they found the list yet?"

Nick frowned. "What list?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing past him. "The _list_! The door was locked, they were going to look for a list of everyone with a key. _Seriously, dude,_ I wonder how you ever became a detective, because it obviously wasn't by asking the right questions." She stormed through the main room, around the altar and to one of the drapes, behind which voices could be heard.

She moved the drape to the side and stepped through. "Did you find the list?"

"We did." Sean held it out to her, not looking up from the document in front of him. "Did you...?"

"Maybe." She took the paper and scanned it. It was just a list of names and dates, she guessed of when the keys were given out.

_Brownies. Red curls. Kind eyes._

_"Oh, hi, Leila!"_

"Leila!" She opened her eyes, finding the name on the list. "This one. Leila... Ealtergött?"

Sean looked up at her outburst, and read the name she was pointing at. "Aldergod." He Americanised the pronunciation. He turned to Hank, and then to Nick. "Find out where she lives and talk to her."

Alexae nodded at the command. "She's bound to confess." She added. "Must be wrecked with guilt by now."

"No, hold on." Hank stepped forward, between her and the captain. "We can't just randomly go out and arrest people. We have a whole list, why start with her?"

"A hunch." She shrugged.

Nick huffed. " _Really?_ "

She turned to him, eyes stern. "A _very strong_ hunch."

He nodded, turned on his heels. "Come on." Hank pushed past them without a word, looking very unhappy, but at least one of them listened. Their heavy steps distanced themselves, until the oak door fell shut.

Silence.

Peter scraped his throat. "Your-" He coughed again. "Your lady Martin, are you sure? Karen is always so- I can't imagine her-" He seemed lost for words.

"Yes." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Father. I don't know why, but... I'm sorry. I'm sure."

"Okay." He sighed, folded his hands in a parody of prayer. "Okay, I shouldn't doubt you. I'm sorry."

She offered him a kind smile. "Don't apologize." She tried her best not to make it sound like an order. She checked her watch. "We should probably let them take Fredericka, clean this place up. Again, I'm very sorry for your loss."

Sean understood a hint when he heard one, and moved out of the room, leading them to the main room. At the oak door, the priest hesitated.

"It really has been my pleasure." He bent down one more time as he opened the door for them. "Despite the circumstances."

She gave him a little curtsey. "The feeling is mutual. Hopefully next time our paths cross will be under better conditions."

He nodded, and tipped an invisible hat as she moved to the front door. "May the paths of fate be kind on you... sister."

She bit her tongue as she walked through the front door, back to the open outside world. It wasn't until she felt the sun on her face that she realized how damp and dark it had been inside.

Sean was waiting for her on the sidewalk. "That was... odd." He declared. "You all right?"

"Yes." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Just glad we can return to regular programming." She fell in line behind him as he started for the car. "I think I'm done with adventures for the day."

He chuckled. "That would be a first." At her silence, he looked back at her. "You sure you're fine?"

"I..." She rubbed her eyes, then her face. "Can we get takeout at your place tonight?" She asked. "I know it's Thursday, but I think I want to discuss some... _private_ things."

He opened the car door for her, and she got in. "Sounds serious. You really want to wait until tonight?"

"No." She shook her head. The car was too small, the roof too low. Before he could close the door, she got out again. "No, you're right. I don't want to make the rest of the day awkward. I'll walk home."

"You don't know where we are." He reasoned. "It would take you hours. You _will_ get lost."

"And I will call someone if I need to be picked up." She rolled her eyes. "I'm an adult, Sean, I'll be fine."

"If you say so." He shrugged, patted her shoulder. "See you tonight."

"See ya." She started walking, probably in the direction of the woods. She didn't really know, nor did she really care. She just needed to clear her head. She needed to breathe air, smell the sky, feel the sun. She needed to be _outside_. Everything else would come tonight.

Tonight.

Oh, crap. She needed to prepare for tonight. Practice what to say. How to say it. Mostly, what _not_ to say. She had no idea how much he knew. She had no idea how much she had to explain to him.

She turned, checking briefly if his car was gone, then started walking the right direction. She knew the motel was somewhere in that direction, probably, and she would eventually find her way back.

Eventually.

Probably.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, precious." Darren looked up from his work as she entered the room. "What's with the scarf?"

Her hands flew to her head, her eyes widening in realization. "Oh, _crap_ , I didn't mean to take that." She took it off, folded it as she walked towards him. "Can you do me a favor?"

He quirked a brow at her. "Not returning that from wherever it came from. I'm not your errant boy."

"Technically..." She smirked as she took off her coat, dumping it on the one free chair in the room.

"...No." He glared at her. "We've had this discussion before. No matter how you bend it, I'm not your bellhop." He closed his laptop and turned in his chair. "Where did you come from, anyway? I didn't expect you home for at least a couple of hours, with the work and the dinner and all."

"Yeah, well." She sighed, dropped herself on the bed. "Rough morning. Apparently Portland has a temple."

"Oh, bollocks." He turned further, sitting so he was facing her. "How'd you handle it?"

"Pretty well, I think, but the priest recognized me. The Grimm was too busy being freaked out, but I'm pretty sure the Captain knows _something_."

He hummed. "Do you still want to... go ahead with it? I can move the appointment until after we're both done here, and we can go home together."

 "And then you'll get suspended for however long that takes, and it'll only take longer." She waved her hands in the air as she talked. "Counteroffer: I could stay here."

"Alone?" Darren scoffed. "Tell me, if you had a diamond the size of your head, would you leave it in this dump unsupervised?"

She glared at him. "I'm not a shiny lump of _coal_ , Dar." She growled. "I'm tough."

"But there's a temple in Portland." He argued. "I don't want to leave you alone near a temple."

" _Fine_." She turned away from him. "I'll ask him tonight. But I want to be honest with him."

" _No._ " He stood, glaring at her, " _You can't-!_ "

"Talking at me loudly won't make me change my mind, you should know that." She grabbed around for the blanket and wrapped it around herself. "I'm gonna nap. Goodnight."

"But-"

"Nope." She pulled his pillow over her head. "I've decided, conversation over. Sleep now."


	14. Seeing

Sean picked her up at the usual time, and they made a quick detour on the way to his apartment to pick up some food. She was silent the whole ride, curled up around the paper bag on her lap. Even with the nap, her head was starting to hurt, thoughts running a mile a minute.

He didn't ask if she was okay. He did keep stealing glances at her, though, and he didn't try to keep up a conversation. He let her out and took the bag from her when they arrived at his apartment, and led her upstairs with a hand between her shoulder blades.

Upstairs, she sat down awkwardly in one of his dinner chairs, careful to keep her hands tucked to herself. He placed the bag on the table and hung their coats, then sat down opposite of her.

"All right, come on, get it out." He looked at her with a little humor in his eyes. She straightened, jutted out her chin.

"I have no idea what you mean."

He chuckled. "Whatever you wanted to talk about. Come on, it's obviously weighing on you."

She sighed, closed her eyes, and focused on the words she was about to force out of her mouth. "I'm- I mean, I know you know I'm Wesen." She met his gaze. "I stopped trying to hide it a while ago."

"I noticed." He smiled at her, waiting.

She smiled back, then took another deep breath. "I'm- I am-" She sighed, the words stuck in her throat. "I can-"

"Hey." He placed his hand on the table, reaching out but nowhere near touching her. "It's all right. Can I tell you a story, first?"

She nodded, unable to form any words now.

He smiled at her. "When I was little, my father's family was... not all too happy about my existence. It got better over time, but my mom and I traveled through Europe for a while, left for the States through Amsterdam." He paused for a moment, drawing circles on the table, purposely not looking at her. "I was six or seven when our car broke down in the Alps. We were on one of those small back roads, with no way of contacting anyone. My mom didn't say it at the time, but she was scared we were going to die there. So, we got out of the car and walked."

She frowned at him. "I don't..."

"Let me. After about an hour, we came across a house. There was a man there, British. Don't remember his name, but it was fancy. He took pity on my mom, let us stay at his place while he fixed the car. Then, he took us to the nearest city. I remember having to get there through some sort of tunnel, way off the beaten path."

Her eyes widened. " _No_..."

His smile widened, and his eyes flicked up to hers as he finished the story. "They normally aren't keen on outsiders, but they knew we weren't dangerous. Besides, they were celebrating the event of a millennium."

"I-" She huffed, unbelieving. "When did you- How?"

He shrugged. "From the first day. First Darren, and then you guessed my family history. And you kept dropping hints."

She smiled down at her own hands, then frowned. "There's something-"

"I know." He started unpacking their dinner with one hand, the other still on the table. "I... picked up on that. I couldn't figure out why you were running from your family. Then I realized."

"You knew... How long?" She tried not to stare at him open-mouthed.

He shrugged, handed her a carton and chopsticks. "I guess this morning just confirmed it."

She chuckled. "Priest Peter needs a poker face." She sighed again, and shook her head, "And I've been worrying for weeks about something you already know."

He nodded, smiling. "Yes." He opened his own carton. "Was that the thing you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, yes." She took a bite. "And another thing. I told you about Darren being summoned by internal affairs, yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Well..." She poked her food. "... He's not really comfortable with me being alone, due to my... _thing_ , so..." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if I might be allowed to perhaps stay here, maybe?"

He huffed a laugh. " _So many_ politeness in one sentence."

"You didn't answer." She looked up at him, uncertain.

"Of course you can." He shook his head fondly. "You're welcome here anytime."

She frowned. "Thing is, with my... _thing_ -"

"Can you-" He interrupted her, the licked his lips. "Have you ever said it out loud? You keep skirting around it."

She looked at her hands, then at where his was still in the middle of the table. "I can." She took a deep breath. "I'm a Voyant. I'm _the_ Voyant."She glared at him, as if to say, _see_? "I can _see_ time. I see people's memories. Thing is, in someone's house... You've touched everything here. If I stay here for a longer time, I'll find out everything about you. _Everything_."

"I don't mind." He smirked at her. "You already know my biggest secret."

"I'm serious, Sean. I can't choose what I see, not really. If there's anything you don't want me to know, you shouldn't-"

"You can know everything." He smiled at her, something soft and fuzzy and slightly glassy in his eyes. She wasn't quite sure what it was, though. It didn't really matter, because he leaned forward and placed it palm-up right in front of her, a clear invitation. "I don't mind."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, looked at the hand with slight trepidation in her eyes. "Okay. Anything I should... know, before? Dark past, secret murder, anything like that?"

He huffed. Even now, on the precipice of a massive cliff and about to jump, wrought with anxiety and worry, she was still so... _her_. His hand twitched.

"Her name is Diana."

She looked at his hand for a long moment, then met his eyes. She didn't ask. She'd find out soon enough. After another long breath, she brought her hand to his. Closing her eyes, she grabbed it. Tangled their fingers as reality fell away.

_Snow outside a car window. A blonde woman looking at him, the warmth of her smile not quite reaching her eyes._

_"We'll be all right, baby, we'll be just fine. We just have to walk for a small while."_

_A man, then a small town._

Home.

_An airplane. A college dorm room. Girlfriends. More planes, more girlfriends. Police academy. Gun training. Promotion._

_Gunshots. Pain. Hospital rooms._

_Promotion._

_Portland._

_More blonde women, one old, one young. Not-just-friendly smiles._

_"Adalind."_

_A night. A call. A baby._

_A whirlwind._

_A woman, covered in blood-_

She let go, gasping. Her body doubled over in a reflex at all the information, and she slammed her head on the table, near-missing her tray of food.

"Ow." She lay, panting, trying to dispel the fuzzy spots in her vision, the slight ringing in her ears.

His hand hovered over her head. "Are you-"

"Fine." She swallowed, blinked. Breathed slowly. "Could you-" She chocked on her own breath. "Bucket? Sorry."

"Course." He stood, and was at her side in a moment. He placed a tub in her lap, gentle fingers in her neck guiding her head in the right position.

She saw nothing.

He rubbed between her shoulder blades as she hung slumped, trying desperately to keep the contents of her stomach inside. "How long does this usually last?"

She tried to shrug without moving too much. "If I do it like this... no telling. I had to push through the suppressants to see that much."

"I bet your body doesn't like that." He'd gone on to work on the knots in her neck. "Can you estimate?"

"Worst of it should be gone in about half an hour." She relaxed a little under his hands. "But I'll be messed up for a while."

"Right." He bent down and patted her for a moment, swiping her phone from her pocket. "I'm not driving you home if it makes you feel worse."

"What are you doing?" She lifted her head, then bent back over the tub. After a pause, she coughed slightly. "I'm fine."

"No you're not." He found the right number and dialed it. After a moment, he started talking. "Darren, it's captain Renard. Lexie is staying here tonight, she's not feeling well." He hung up as Darren spluttered on the other side, and placed the phone on the table.

Alexae chuckled dryly, then coughed. "You _really_ don't like him."

He hummed and took the tub from her. "I left my family for a reason. Brace yourself."

"Wha-" He swooped her up, and the sudden wave of nausea made her tense all over again. She clenched her eyes shut to prevent throwing up on his shirt until she was stationary again, the soft couch beneath her. The way he'd put her down, she was practically laying, so she slit down a little more. He went away and back again, placing something near her head.

"The tub is right here." He told her. "Don't open your eyes. I'll grab you a blanket."

She yawned, not responding. It was too much effort. The occasional image still danced in her consciousness, but the spinning was getting less. The darkness was comforting, calming.

She'd slipped off before he returned with the blanket.


	15. Coffee

She woke to the smell of bacon and coffee, with a massive headache. She groaned.

"Morning, sunshine." He peeked his head into her field of vision. "How are you feeling?"

"Hung over." She groaned as she sat up, her eyes flashing as she did. "White, no sugar."

"Coming up."

"Is this... mornings, with you? Bacon and coffee and fancy things?" She folded the blanket at her feet, and carefully stood. "Seems like a hassle."

"It's not every morning." He came out of the kitchen with a tray of food and coffee. "What about you?"

"Mornings?" She scooted to give him room to sit. "Usually dry cornflakes. Porridge, sometimes. Pre-made sandwiches if Darren's in charge."

He chuckled as he sat down. "Your life's sad." He handed her a mug and pulled the coffee table with the tray a bit closer. "Dig in."

"I live in motels." She picked up a piece of toast. "Half of the time, I share my bathroom with people who aren't allowed near schools. Portland is one of the better ones." She bit into the bread. "Some people have incredibly hairy backs. Especially European men of a certain age."

He chuckled. "You sound _experienced_."

"Traumatized, more likely." She rolled her eyes, smiling, and sipped her coffee. "I've been traveling since... _forever_ , really. Seen some weird things. Once, our room keys got switched, and we came home from a case to find _several_ men naked and busy in our bed. I'm still not quite sure where they were from, but they spoke Polish and we were nowhere near Poland. Darren found the biggest one and put him in a chokehold. The rest was terrified, scurried out without taking their clothes. We practically had to have the sheets chemically sterilized before I could touch them. _So many fluids_."

"Gross." He agreed, before turning his head to look at her. "So you only ever stay in motels?"

"Mostly." She nodded. "Darren has a room in London, but it's not much better." She picked up a piece of bacon to chew on. "Though his housemates wax."

"And you've never wanted to have a place of your own? Somewhere nice?"

"Why?" She shrugged, looking up at him. It seemed that, no matter what they were doing, she was always looking up at him."I have no money, no credit record, no official last name. There's no way I could ever have anything of my own, so why dream?"

"Because hope is a wonderful thing?" Even without looking at him, she could tell he wasn't serious.

She scoffed. "Not to be a cynic in the morning, but hope is the most dangerous thing Pandora let out of her box. It ruins lives. People sit, waiting in their grey boxes, looking up at the sky, _hoping_ for a ray of sunshine while they should grab a spoon and start digging their way out. _Hope_ keeps people stationary, focused on what they think should be their way out when they're missing every opportunity to _actually_ get out of the shi- sorry." She took a breath. "Philosophy tangent in the early morning. Not the best way to start your day."

He bumped her shoulder with his. "Darren's not a morning person, is he?"

"Not at all." She gulped down her coffee. "He hates noise before ten in the morning."

"Well, I don't." He took the last piece of bacon and broke it, offering her half. "So you can loudly enjoy your mornings."

"Right." A smile broke through as she finished the meal. "Because I'll be staying here."                           

"Yes." He put the stuff back onto the tray. "When does Darren leave, anyway?"

"Next Wednesday." She stood, too, and smelt her shirt. "Can we stop at the motel on our way? I don't want to wear yesterday's clothes after our date night."

"It wasn't a date." He reminded her as he took the tray to the kitchen, his tone teasing. It's something they'd discussed when the nights out became a _thing_. There couldn't be any doubts, any second thoughts. They jokingly decided that their dinners were dates, but not _dates-dates_ , after which Alexae became stuck in a small loop of saying dates-dates-dates until it stopped being a word. Sean had chuckled, and suggested calling it _get-togethers_ instead, and then there'd been a long discussion about semantics. Eventually, they decided on just calling it _not dates_.

"I know that." She stretched. " _I_ know that, but I'd rather not start the rumors. I get enough of those in London with Darren."

"You've mentioned." He dumped the dishes in the sink and checked his watch. "Come on, then, we can still get coffee if we leave now."

"Let's go, then!" She grabbed their coats. "I might even be able to squeeze in a shower."

He grabbed his keys and took his jacket from her. "If you want to avoid rumors, showing up half-clean and still wet from a quick motel shower isn't a good idea."

She paused to think about it. "You have a point."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Darren had already left when they reached the motel, leaving the room packed up and empty. There was a small stack of bills on the table, next to her laptop bag, roughly enough to buy lunch. She quickly changed into fresh clothes, doused herself in deodorant, and pocketed the money before stepping back outside. She pressed the bag into Sean's chest, moving past him and down the stairs before he could refuse it.

"Coffee?" She skipped the last few stairs, crossed the parking lot in the direction of the coffee shop, and he was right behind her, her backpack slung over his shoulder. "We'll need four... five... seven, 'cause Nick is bringing guests in."

"How do you-" He caught up with her, enough to see her face. "How do you _do_ that?" He caught a glimpse of her eyes before she turned away.

"I'm Interpol, I-"

"You don't have to do that anymore, remember?"

She turned to look at him. Her eyes flashed amber, almost reptilian, actually giving off a faint light. "There is a very big chance Monroe and Rosalie will be there when we get there. A slightly lesser chance that a tall dark haired beauty with a pout will be there, too." She walked a bit slower. "Also, I should probably tell you I'm practically blind when I do this, so if I walk into something, I'm blaming you."

He placed a hand between her shoulders, pushed her to walk a bit faster. "Can you hear me?" He steered her to avoid a trash can.

She nodded. "Sort of. It's, like... layered, I guess." She blinked, and her eyes went back to normal. "Like listening to music with headphones, or watching something on a glass TV. But it's more like watching five different shows at the same time, while listening to eight _completely_ unrelated songs. If I hadn't been dealing with it for my entire life, I'd probably go insane every time it happened. It's why I take the suppressants. They mostly keep me from having other people's flashbacks every time I touch anything."

"Except that they don't work." He held the door open for her, and they entered the shop.

"They do, actually." She waved at the barista, and the man already moved to slip on a pair of gloves. "If I take enough of them, I can't get any visions. Tried that for a while, but it felt... empty." She skipped the short line. "Seven.. eight, please, Dylan. Two white, three with everything, three black."

"Coming right up, boss!" He mock-saluted her and turned, getting to work, cleaning every instrument before he used it.

Sean watched it, impressed. "You trained them well."

She shrugged. "Tipping big helps." She turned to him. "Do you ever think about being normal? Not... hiding, never looking over your shoulder. White picket fence, maybe."

"Sometimes." He admitted. "Mostly at four in the morning. Then I get to work, and I realize I'm not a picket fence person."

She chuckled. "We need to spend  less time together, you're starting to sound like me."

He widened his eyes in mock-fear. "You're going to be living with me." He said it like it was the first time he was realizing the implications. "This will be terrible."


	16. falling

On Wednesday morning, they cleaned out the room and hauled all their cases to the parking lot. Sean looked slightly, worried about it, but Alexae just dropped the smallest one n his trunk.

"Darren's a diva." She explained. "He gets all the storage space and luggage room, and I just travel lightly." She placed her backpack next to it. "Luckily I never had much stuff."

Sean chuckled and closed the trunk, moving around the car to start the engine and give the other two some space.

Darren hugged her. "No big goodbyes, right?"

She pulled back a little bit, looking up at him. "You'll be back in two weeks." She reminded him. "We've been captive longer than that."

"Yeah, but together." He pulled her closer again. "I don't like leaving you here, with _him_." He cocked his head to the car. "What if-"

"No." She smiled up at him. "We've been over this, Dar. No big goodbyes, no speeches. Just... I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"Two weeks." He leaned close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll call you when I arrive. Text you whenever I can."

"Keep me updated." She buried into his shirt, breathing in his scent. "Don't die out there."

"I won't." He squeezed her. "It's just a hearing. I'll be back before you know it."

"Exactly." She turned her head up to pressed a kiss to his neck, the closest she could get to his face. "Now let go of me."

He did. "T'amo."

She smiled. "T'amo etiam. Now go, load your stuff, you'll miss your flight." She gave him one last quick hug. "I'll see you in two weeks."

"Two weeks." He stepped away, started loading his suitcases in his rental car. She sighed, got into Sean's car.

Her eyes flashed yellow for a moment. "He wants to talk to you."

There was a slam on the side of the car. "Captain!"

Sean sighed and got out to look at Darren, hands on his hips defiantly. "What is it?"

Darren looked at him for a long moment. "I hope what I'm about to say is completely useless, Mr Renard." He started, "But you better take care of her. I _will_ hold you personally responsible if anything happens to her."

Sean huffed. He'd be amused if the person in front of him didn't look dead serious. "Break her heart and I'll break your legs?" He scoffed, " _Come on._ "

Darren glared at him, his eyes glowing a lime yellow, his face half-turning. "Harm a single cell in her body, and I will make your lungs external organs."

Sean quirked a brow. "You're threatening the Captain of the Portland police department."

"And I will _kill_ the captain of the Portland police department if he as much as touch my friend." He growled. His face shifted back. "She's more precious than you could ever imagine, Sean, and more fragile than she thinks. Just... be careful."

"I know." Sean nodded, "I will."

"Or I will kill you."

Sean stared him down. "You're going to miss your plane."

He growled at him one more time and then turned to get into his rental.

"May the light of peace brighten your paths, _brother_ , heaven knows you'll need it." With one last parting glare, he started his car and pulled away.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The letter came that same day, hidden between the small stack of daily paperwork. It was addressed to him, but as he opened it, it was clear that it was meant for her eyes. He looked at it for a long moment before slightly raising his voice.

"Alex."

His door was closed, but he knew she'd be listening. She always was, the earplugs with music she wore when she worked just a farce to keep people away. Either that, or she'd gotten attuned to his voice in the past few months. Maybe both.

She was in his office, closing the door behind her, seconds later. "Something wrong?" She asked when she saw the look on his face.

He held out the letter. "You tell me."

She took the paper from him, her eyes scanning the symbols quickly. "This is a Pigpen." She concluded. "Maybe someone from your family, or the Resistance?"

He shook his head. "They have other ways of contacting me."

She swallowed, frowned down at the letter. "You think it's... mine?" She dropped herself in her chair. He nodded, and her frown deepened. "Why would my... They have no reason."

He quirked a brow. "Working incredibly hard to avoid _family_ , huh?" He pointed out, before he softened. "Do they even know you're here?"

She shrugged. "They have no reason to, unless- Oh, crap." She looked up at him. "The Father. Peter. He must've- Crap."

Sean frowned. "He seemed to pick up on you wanting to hide."

"But he probably figured that was because of Nick!" She groaned, rubbing her face roughly. "I need to talk to him."

"We'll go see him tonight." Sean promised. "Can you figure out what it says, though?"

"Yeah, sure." She grabbed an empty paper and a pen. "Give me a moment."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153863629@N04/27685852248/in/dateposted-public/)

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

"K." She frowned at the sign-off. "That could be anyone." She looked between the captain and the translated text. "It's a warning." She explained. "K warns you for... me. I guess, and my- my family." The word, the truth tasted bitter on her tongue. "They think that if I stay in Portland, people will come and get me." She was silent for a moment, thinking about the implications of the words she was about to speak. "It's happened before, you know. In Paris. I was-"

"You don't have to share it if you don't want to." He interrupted, looking kindly upon her slightly pained face. "I don't need to know your entire life's history even if you know mine."

"I-" She looked at him, stunned. "I'm- thank you. I'm grateful." She handed him the translated letter. "Though I think there are things you'll need to know."

"And we'll talk about it." He glanced out the window, to where Nick was working at his desk. "Later. When you want to."

She sighed. "I don't think I ever will." She admitted. "But I do need you to _know_ some things. I just wish you'd... you know, _know them_."

He hummed, a smile playing around his lips as he met her gaze. "Like I could just touch you and instantly know everything about you?" He shook his head, mocking slightly, humor in his eyes. "Too bad people aren't wired that way."

_"But that's people." A sneer. Gloves caressing her face. "You're not people."_

Her eyes flashed darkly. "Don't do that." She told him, her voice more pleading than she wished it would be. "Don't say I'm- don't joke about that. Please."

He softened. "Of course not." He reached out to her, his hand hovering in midair before it dropped to his desk. "I'm-"

" _Do not dare._ " She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't apologize for things you didn't know. Don't treat me like I'm China."

He chuckled, "Incredibly powerful and potentially dangerous?" His mischievous smirk made something deep inside her relax. "I'm grateful you're on our side."

She smirked at him darkly. "I never said I was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the main story is taking off! I'm really exited for the conspiracies and everything.  
> Don't worry if you don't feel like translating the letter, it's not vital to the story and everything will become clear later on.  
> As always, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks very much for reading! Let me know what you think so far ^_^


	17. Klergymen

Sean took her back to the temple the next morning before work, and she brought the scarf along as well. She didn't expect many people to be there, but just in case, she wrapped the cloth around her face. She squared her shoulders as they entered the small entrance hall, braced herself against the too-familiar weight coming down upon her.

Sean placed his hands between her shoulder blades, gently pushing her forward, over the threshold and into the proper temple. Father Peter was standing at the altar, facing away from them, preparing it for the day ahead. Next to him was a woman holding the candles out to him, her glossy dark hair peeking out from under a red scarf and flowing in waves over her loose-fitting grey sleeveless robes.

Without really thinking, Alexae tried to take a step back, right into Sean's chest.

"You can do this." He whispered, before pushing her forward again. The rumble of his voice carried through the room, however, and reached the two people at the altar.

Father Peter turned, the first candle in position above the first stand, and nearly dropped it when he spotted them. He handed the candle back to the woman as he turned fully and started walking towards them, and the woman watched, uncomprehending.

Cautiously, Alexae took a few steps to meet him, glad that she could feel Sean looming right behind her.

"You returned!" He exclaimed, starting to bow deeply but stopping when he noticed the police captain. "...And you brought your friend." He gave them a little bow, instead. "Can I help you today, Miss? Mister?"

She offered him a small smile. "Captain Renard knows."

"Oh, good." Father Peter dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground in front of her. "Your Highness, I cannot apologize enough for what I have done to you last time you were here. I disrespected your Grace, and I do not deserve to be forgiven." He didn't dare to look up, his body taut against the ground. Behind him, there was a clatter as the candles hit the ground, the woman falling to her knees, her face full of awe.

"Bit dramatic." Alexae breathed, just loud enough for Sean to hear. "Stand." She ordered it loud and clear, to the both of them, her annoyance barely seeping into her voice. "You did well last time, Father, and you only followed implicit orders. You protected me from a Grimm, and cannot hold a good deed against anyone." She felt like she was reciting a rule book, but it seemed to work for the man. As he stood again, she met his gaze. "And, if I may, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me by my alias."

"Of course." He smiled brightly again, and there was something puppy-like about him. He nodded once more and bounded back to the altar, where the woman was collecting the candles. After a moment, they followed him, Sean's hand a steady presence on her back.

"This is Maria." He introduced the woman as he helped her up. "My wife. She has been helping me since Fredericka-"

"It's a pleasure to meet you." She greeted her with a hand on her heart. "I'm Alexae, and this is Captain Sean Renard, Portland PD."

"The honor is all mine." The woman smiled, and she was beautiful; her deep brown eyes shone intelligently, complimenting her warm skin and high cheekbones beautifully. "Peter has told me a lot about what you've done for us."

"I'm sorry for your loss." It was an empty platitude, but it seemed to soothe her. "But we're actually here for that." She turned to Peter, "Did you tell anyone else I'm here? Any parishioners, friends... family?" The hand on her back curled around her shoulder blade at the word. "Anyone I should know about?"

Peter thought for a moment as he put the candles down on the altar. "I didn't really tell anyone, aside from Maria." He turned to look at his wife. "It's not our place to share your secrets. Did you-"

"No, not that I remember." Maria didn't seem to be able to look away from her, mesmerized. "I didn't tell anyone, I think."

"Not something you easily forget, I'd think." Sean remarked, stepping forward and between them. "Are you absolutely sure?"

Maria seemed startled at the new person entering the conversation, and looked at him, annoyed. Her eyes gleamed an angry yellow. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Sean offered a dangerous thing that looked like a smile and held out his hand. "Captain Sean Renard, Portland PD, as my _friend_ said earlier."

_Don't be ridiculous, friends are for people._

She squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of memories. Maybe it was the temple, maybe it was the people, but she wasn't feeling too well. As subtly as she could while a proverbial spotlight was on her, she extracted herself from the conversation. Peter noticed, of course he did, and he offered her his lighter.

She turned the heavy golden thing over in her hands a few times.

"No one else knows Alexa is here?" The sound of Sean -of Captain Renard interrogating Maria was almost a soothing backdrop. Without really thinking about it, she flicked the lighter, watching the little steady flame. Peter offered a candle.

"Is there any way someone could've found out? Any paperwork, or could anyone have overheard you?"

She lit the candle, took it from him. With a practiced elegance, she carefully placed it in the first stand. Almost automatically, she took the second one as well.

"No." Maria's voice carried through the hall. "We made sure we were alone, but- oh no." Her shock barely reached Alexae, but it made Peter turn. " _No,_ it _can't-_ "

"What?" Alexae was working on the second-to-last candle, now.

"The Librarian." Maria explained, and Peter gasped. "Of _course_ , the Librarian."

"Who's that?" Sean glanced at Alexae as she lit the last candle, only half-aware of the conversation.

Maria frowned, looking very guilty. "He took care of this Temple before we were stationed here. He's a bookish type, only really cares about the Texts, but-"

"He's Theban." Peter bit the bullet. Alexae nearly dropped the last lit candle.

"He _WHAT_?!" Her outburst echoed through the room loudly, and made their ears ring. Maria cowered, startled, and Sean flung his head around to stare at her.

Right. Outbursts were probably not effective. She took a few deep breaths, and asked again. "There's a Theban here and you didn't think to mention it?"

Maria swallowed, still scared. "He doesn't really use it, and he's really nice-"

"He's a _fu_ -!" She took another breath. "He's a Theban. How could you overlook-" She stopped as she noticed Maria's frightened face. "Never mind." She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to change her tone. "Maria, _darling_ , could you _please_ get us some tea? I think we can all use something calming."

"Of course, Your- Miss." She took a small bow, and disappeared behind one of the drapes. With all the willpower inside her, Alexae placed the last candle in its stand.

"A Theban is something you could've worked into conversation." She remarked, handing the lighter back to Peter. "Something that might've been _valuable_ to know."

"I-" Peter glanced around for an escape. "I apologize, Your Div-"

Sean forcefully and physically pulled her back from where she was glaring at the Priest. "What's a Theban?" He asked, trying to diffuse the tension. Once again, he placed himself in front of her, but this time, he wasn't protecting her.

"It's..." She seemed to deflate a bit. "It's from the Oracle of Thebes, it's what they call people like... me. People who can see the bigger picture."

"People who use semantics and euphemisms too much?" He offered a brief smile before he turned serious. "Someone like you only needs to touch anyone to discover anything."

"Maria's robes are sleeveless." Peter realized. "She's been so excited that even a  graze would be enough."

Alexae nodded, "I need to know everything you have on this Librarian. Name, face, age, anything. I need to know how bad a situation I'm in."

Peter frowned. "He's young, maybe five or ten years older than you are, but I'm not sure about his name. He calls himself the Librarian, maybe there's something in the papers. I'll look for you after the tea."

Sean's phone rung, loud in the silence, and he checked the phone. "It's Burkhardt." He pressed _ignore_. "We need to get to the station."

"We should." Alexae pulled out a scrap of paper and scribbled down her number. "Call this when you find anything, or ask for the captain. We need to deal with this silently."

"Discretely." Sean corrected, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her back to the door. "It's too late to do it silently."

"Under the radar, then." She compromised. She half turned to wave at Peter. "Tell Maria sorry for the tea." She managed before Sean had speed-walked her back to the big door to the hall.

"Of course, Miss." Peter managed before they were through the big oak doors.

The door slammed shut behind him and they both took a steadying breath.

"I'm not a fan of this place." She unwrapped the scarf from her head and folded it, looking at the Captain as she did. "And neither are you, I think."

"Nick was right." Sean sighed, moving to the front door and breaking the seal to the outside world. "There's something about the people here."

"Can't deny that." She put the scarf back where she'd found it. "But this is nothing. You should see the Temples in Europe."

He chuckled as he let her through. "Maybe you _should_ tell me about Paris one day."


	18. Katastrophic

It had been fifteen days. For the seventh time in as many minutes, she checked her personal email, when her world was darkened by a shadow cast over her desk. Looking up, she met Nick's eyes where they were looking down at him.

She paused her music and pulled out an earplug. "You 'right?"

Nick kept staring at her, sitting down on the small free space on her desk. Frowning at him, she closed her browser. "I really hope you have a better thing to do with your afternoon than just stare at me."

'I talked to my friend Monroe about that church thing that woman was murdered in, asked him if he knew more about it."

"Temple." She took out her other earplug and closed her laptop, turning her full attention to him. If it involved Monroe, it involved Wesen, and she needed to pay attention.

He frowned briefly. "Right. Well, he and Rosalee told us the entire thing is built on some sort of myth about some all-knowing kind of Wesen."

She wasn't sure what she had to focus on in that statement. _Us_ had gripped her by the throat, but _Wesen_ nearly stopped her heart. _Myth_ , though, _myth_ brought air to her lungs.

"So?" She asked, casual. "Why are you giving me this information?"

Nick quirked a brow. "An ancient mythical race that's protected by dragons."

"Right." She rolled her eyes. "So basically this is a conspiracy theory about Darren."

"Yes." Nick stared her down, obviously waiting for her to crack.

She sighed. "You're not leaving until I give you something, yes?" She glared at him. "Fine. The... all-knowing ones, they're just a myth. But then again, to many people, so are the people like Monroe, and Rosalee, and Sean, and, well..." She gestured at him. "Without ever meeting one, you can't completely be sure whether they exist, or whether it's just an elaborate lie created by the Priests and Fathers and other Holy-men to collect."

Nick considered it for a moment. "It's a religion." He stated, as if that nullified her argument.

"It isn't, though." She couldn't help defending it. "It's... less than that. More than that. Different, I guess." She shrugged. "It's like you trying to convince normal people that Wesen are a thing without actually having Wesen there to demonstrate. These... things are the Wesen version of, well, Wesen."

Nick kept staring at her, studying her as if she was hiding the truth of the universe from him.

She rolled her eyes. "No, I don't know either. Now, _please_ , I have more to do today, and so do you." She opened up her laptop and put her earplugs back in, ignoring him, hoping he'd leave.

He didn't.

He pulled on one of her plugs. "What kind of pills do you take?"

"Excuse me?" She frowned, but didn't give him the satisfaction of looking back up at him.

He wordlessly tipped over her Portland PD mug, revealing her half-full bottle.

"Well, that's a bit of a breach of privacy." She quirked a brow at him. "I told you, they're nausea medication."

"Right." He picked up the bottle and turned it over in his hand. " _Homeopathic_ nausea medicine that you made in the spice shop."

"Exactly. It's a family recipe." She opened the police database, confident she didn't need her full brain power to sustain the conversation.

"And you're fine now?"

She shrugged, "Yeah, I-"

"Good." He stood, opened the bottle and held it upside-down above the trash can before dumping the bottle in, as well.

"What the _fuck_!" She stood, slamming her laptop closed with a _bang_ on the way up, and then slamming her fists on the table. "What the _HELL_ , Nick?!What the _absolute-_ " She felt it bubble up inside her, felt it burning behind her eyes, threatening to take over.

She took a deep breath. "What the absolute fuck do you think you're doing?" She hissed as he sauntered back to her desk. "Why did you do that?"

He pulled a mildly-smashed carton box from his pocket and offered it to her. She looked at it.

"Drugs." She surmised. "No thanks."

"It's easier than making your own." He held it out a little more, and she frowned a bit more.

"Cinnarizine." She read, digging through her memory for the adequate facts. "Almost never known under C twenty-six, H twenty-eight, N two. Anti-histamine, mostly used for travel sickness. May cause drowsiness, lessened coordination, blurry vision. You probably shouldn't drive when you take them. Or have babies." She sat back down. "Long term use or overdosing can cause serious damage to organs, the respiratory system, eyes, reproductive system." She met his eyes. "Not to mention you'll kill some fish. No thank you."

"Fine." He put the box down on her desk. "You'll need to use them, now."

"I don't have to do anything." She closed her eyes and picked up the box. After a moment of quick aiming, she tossed it in the can and opened her eyes again, glaring up at him. "Look, I get why you're doing this, more than you think I do, and I get why you have the need to pester me. However, I'd appreciate it if you'd try not to this openly, in the future. Now _please_ leave. Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ have a life." For hopefully the last time, she opened her laptop. Luckily, he admitted defeat.

"Oh, and Burkhardt?" She asked, not looking up.

"Yes?"

"If you ever touch anyone's medication again, I will rip out those baby blues and make sure you can never go though anyone's stuff ever again." She popped her ear buds in, ignoring his reaction and finally, _finally_ getting to work on finding out where her best friend had gone.

Not long after, a shadow darkened her desk again.

"Oh, for _fu_ -" She looked up so see Sean. "It's you."

"Yes." He put the mug back downside-up again. "I heard yelling."

"You have the reaction time of a cheetah." She smirked at him. "It's fine. Nick destroyed my pills, but it's fine. Honestly, I think-" She glanced at his desk. Nick had gone out, but Hank was very obviously listening in. "Je pense il a besoin un cas, quelque chose en dehors. Preferably with lots of wind, or coffee."

He smiled. "Pheromones?"

"Pheromones." She nodded, though she was unsure how _he_ knew. She refreshed the page she was on one last time. "Hey can I talk to you personally for a moment?"

"Of course." He nodded towards his office, and she followed him, closing the door behind them.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and failing horribly. "Close the blinds." She could feel it bubbling right beneath the surface, right along with her emotions, and she really didn't need anyone to see it. Luckily, he obliged.

"What's wrong?"

"Darren." She took a deep breath and walked further into the room, wondering whether or not she wanted to sit. "Something is... I should've gotten a message yesterday, but he's been silent for nearly a week, now."

"Could he just be busy?" Sean pulled out her chair, the message clear. She shook her head, sitting down.

"He's never late, not without letting me know." She worried her lip with her teeth. "I think something serious happened."

"Right." He noted her expression, and sat down, too. "Okay. So what could've happened?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "But with the whole thing with K and Peter, it doesn't look good."

He opened a drawer and pulled out a little notebook. "You think it's your family?"

"Yeah, it wouldn't- what are you doing?" She leaned forward to look at the book. "Is that an address book?"

"Yes." He turned to a certain page and showed it to her. "Some of my contacts in Europe might be able to help us out."

"Tav-" She frowned up at him. "I know that name, but I don't know if it's from your memories or mine."

"Probably mine." He hummed. "I've known him for a while now."

"You trust him?" She asked, reaching out for his hand without thinking but pulling back at the last moment. She had no right.

"I do." He touched her fingers, and she saw he was serious. "I can contact him."

"Yes." She shook her head to get rid of the images, but they didn't quite fade fully. "Please." The unknown face was still swimming right in front of her, between them, and she could see him worrying.

"Are you sure you're- you don't look fine."

"I'm... glad Nick can't see me right now." She admitted. "But I'm not going to fish my _nausea medication_ from the trash." A vision of that one blond woman flashed before her as she touched her chair, and she shot up. "This is a bit problematic, though. I need to- I don't know, it's been a while. When did I last-" The fog was getting thicker, and keeping up with her own thoughts felt like swimming against the stream. "When was my last dose?"

"At eight." He checked his watch. "Nearly eight hours ago, now."

The words cleared her mind a bit "You keep- never mind, later. Eight hours is not that bad. I can manage. I can-" She took a deep breath, blinked a couple of times. "Can I sit in your chair?"

"Sure." He stood. "Does..." He considered his words carefully. "Will _Woging_ help?"

"I don't know." She sat down and took a deep breath. She'd seen most of him already, the memories familiar and a lot less intrusive. "But I'm pretty sure your office isn't big enough."

He chuckled. "I think even if you grew to three times your size, I'd have room."

"Shut up." She grinned at him, feeling a lot better. She was slowly getting her focus back,  the memories she'd already seen much easier to control. "You have no idea what I'm capable of." She sat and breathed for a few long moments, letting the memories slip to the background. Eventually, she turned to him. "How do I look?"

He made a face. "There's sunglasses in my desk." He suggested. "We'll go to the spice shop on our way home."

"Awesome." She searched his desk and pulled out a pair of aviators. "Let's hope these work, then."


	19. Kryptic

The darkness wasn't even the worst thing. The constant dripping coming from the walls, the clanging of rusty pipes, the creaking of the chair if he even moved slightly, were horrible. The smell, though, the smell was up there as well. He'd been here for a long time, days probably, tied to the chair, and it didn't improve his hygiene. He'd be able to bare all that, though, if it wasn't for the visits.

They came in periodically, bringing him water and weirdly gross protein shakes and pain. He was pretty sure they were lacing everything with suppressants, but he didn't really care. He needed to sty awake, aware, _alive_. For her. He _needed_ to keep her safe, no matter what the cost.

The door opened, and the light from outside was blinding. A familiar figure was contrasted against it until the door closed again, shrouding them in darkness. Curse them and their ability to navigate the dark.

"Mr. Duncombe." His voice drawled, a hand landing on his bare shoulder. "Ready yet?"

 _Never_. "My name is F C D Duncombe-Aylesworth." He corrected him, though he knew it was a mistake. Surely enough, he felt a piece of familiar metal pressed to his chest soon after the words left him.

"I don't care." The man growled. "Your name is what I want it to be."

He sat up a bit, even though it pressed the knife into his chest. "I don't work for you." He stated. "I never did, I _never_ will."

The man chuckled, the knife dancing over his skin, tearing open fresh wounds. "Well, that doesn't matter, does it? You'll tell me everything I want to know." The hand was back, trailing after the knife. "Sooner or later, one way or another."

He could feel the intrusions, but he had prepared for this. He'd prepared well.

"I am Frederick Cooper Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth, the luckiest of the line of Serpentis." He recited, out loud and in his mind, like a mantra. "I am servant to the Divine Highness only, serving her with my mind, my soul, my heart and hands and every piece of my being, protecting and shielding her from every and any harm that may or may not come to her. I will serve Her Divinity until the day I die and I will take her secrets with me to my grave."

"That skit is getting old." The knife duck a bit deeper into his chest. "You will tell us where we can find her. It's for the greater good."

He lifted his head, finding the two glowing spots where the man's eyes were. He'd never give them the satisfaction."I am Frederick Cooper Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth." He said again, panting as the knife dug deeper into his chest. "I am a servant to the Divine highness only." He could feel the knife draw patterns in his flesh, the blood warming his skin. "Serving her with my mind, my soul, my heart and hands and every piece of my being." The knife travelled lower, cutting deeply into his stomach. "Protecting and shielding her from every and any harm that might come to her." The pain was getting unbearable, fuzzying the edges of his consciousness. He pushed through it. "I will-" His breaths got stuck in his throat. He didn't cough. "-serve Her Divinity-" The fog was taking over, now. "-until the day I die."

Darkness overcame him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Even though the couch was long and spacious, it wasn't meant to be slept on, especially not for three weeks. She was starting to feel it, in her neck and shoulders, but she'd survived in worse circumstances. At least she had a roof over her head, a soft place to rest, and a roommate who cared. After the incident with Nick, Sean had taken to carrying around a bottle of pills himself, and making sure she took them regularly. She also made sure to hide them better, just in case Nick wanted to go through her stuff again.

Sean had also taken to making her breakfast nearly every day. It seemed like he cared for her more than she did, realizing she wasn't really in the mood with all that was going on in her mind. He watched her, too, making sure she would eat with a weird gleam in his eyes that she couldn't quite place. Something in the back of her mind preened when he looked at her like that, something small and uncertain that shouted _"Friend!"_ every time. She tried to suppress it as best she could.

He'd taken to touching her, too. Apparently, he noticed it calmed her, his memories feeling like a warm blanket by now. Now, whenever she was feeling anxious, which was often, he'd be there, a hand on her shoulder, his pinky just on the right side of her shirt collar, that same gleam in his eyes. _Friend_ , the voice in her mind would shout, loudly, _I have a friend_! It was hard to silence it.

She massaged her neck and sat up, groaning because she _really_ didn't feel like going through another day. The smell of bacon helped, though, as did the sound of the coffee machine.

"Morning." Sean greeted from the kitchen. "Coffee's nearly done. Tavitian is willing to meet you today to see what he can do."

She groaned, loudly this time. "Can't you just do it?" She asked, making a face. He poked his head out to look at her.

"No." He smiled at her angry frown. "He's slightly worried 'cause it involves your family. Or mine."

"Or both." She shivered at the idea, rubbing her face. "Let's hope it's yours, I can handle a bunch of diplomats."

"They _have_ killed people." He returned to the bacon. "They're not just diplomats."

She chuckled. "They'd be _really_ stupid if they killed me." She stood, moving to the kitchen and grabbing two plates. "Imagine those stuck up princes at war with a race of omniscient beings."

He smiled. "That... does not put me at ease." He served up the food as she poured them coffee. "Aren't we at war with them?"

"Not really." She leaned against the counter as she thought. "I'm running from the omniscient beings, that's slightly different." She smirked at him. "Besides, they might take you, but I'm pretty much safe from harm."

"Right." His smile was still there, right in his eyes. "So I'm screwed, but you're fine."

"Exactly." She hid her smile behind her mug.

He shook his head, that glint never leaving his gaze.

It comforted her. No matter what would happen that day, no matter how horrible the meeting with that European guy went, no matter what news she heard today, she could always come back here and bask in the peace. Here, in Sean's home, was a sanctuary from the outside world, a shelter in the storm, a relief from the time flowing around them.

She wished every minute could be an early morning like this. Sadly, life did go on, and soon after, they were off to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it ^_^  
> I've got a week off next week, and I'll be using it to build a bit of a buffer for the story. Hopefully, I'll be back to somewhat regular uploads after ^_^  
> (Please let me know what you think of it so far, I love feedback)


	20. Alliance

That afternoon, she walked the short distance from the police station to the place where she'd meet the man who could hopefully save her best friend's life. She had no idea what he looked like, but Sean had said he would be in a red rental car, right at the corner of the street, and that she'd recognize him the moment she saw him. He hadn't been wrong; the moment the man stepped out of the car, a very bright light started burning at the front of her mind.

She nodded at him and leaned against the car next to him. "You must be Sean's friend." She stated, assessing him. "Hans, right?"

"Yes." He opened the door for her. "We can't talk here. Come on."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just so you know, if you kidnap me, I have the means to kill you and the local police captain will let me get away with it."

He looked at her. "I don't doubt it." He gestured to the car seat. "And even if you don't, Sean will do it himself."

"True." She sat down and let him close the door. As he sat down at the driver's side, she buckled up. "Where to, _meinher?_ "

He started the car. "You'll see."

They drove for a while, to an abandoned forest road outside of the city. Looking at the trees, she was feeling glad she'd put on a vest underneath her leather jacket. She had a feeling she knew where this was going.

They got out, and Tavitian checked the surroundings quickly.

"We're safe." She reported, climbing on the hood of the car. "We're alone."

He joined her after his rounds. "I'd like to make sure myself."

She shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat." She moved on to the main topic they needed to discuss. "I assume Sean filled you in on the situation."

"Yes." He climbed onto the top of the car. There couldn't be a more obvious way to establish dominance. "But humor me."

"My friend Darren has disappeared in Europe." She explained. "I believe he's kidnapped. I need him back as soon as possible."

He tapped her shoulder with his shoe. "You're leaving out an important part."

She sighed, closing her eyes to force out the truth. "He's Rex Serpentium. The Family of the Dragon Cult might be involved, or the Royals."

"Because...?" He led her.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for fu- Sean needs to learn to shut up." She took a breath. She didn't really say it out loud. Sean had known without her telling him, she had had no practice.

"I'm part of the Family." She managed, eventually. "I'm... Theban."

"You're a _Seherin_." He surmised.

She looked up at him. "I hate that word." She told him. "But yes, if you want to call it that."

"Prove it."

"Excuse me?"

He poked her again. "Woge, Seherin."

She glared at him, but turned around anyway. Staring him in the eyes, she sat up a bit, letting it flow over her. She could feel her face change, her skin retracting and her nose lengthening until she felt like a horned, human version of Cubone, her new outside bones a slight yellowish beige. Tavitian stared at her darkened eyes in awe.

"Happy now?" She could only hold the form for a couple of seconds because of the suppressants, but it seemed to convince him. "Will you help me?"

"Depends." He studied her face. "What can you do for me?"

She smirked. She knew this game, and she was good at it. And she had an ace in hand. "I can offer you an alliance with the most powerful Wesen in the world." She made sure her face was serious as she showed him her cards. "The Highness is real, alive, and a fan of Darren's. Save him, and you'll have her on your side. Your dreams will come true."

He chuckled. "I doubt that." He slid off the roof and offered his hand to her.

She jumped off the car, on her own. "So, do we have a deal?"

"We do." He dropped his hand and opened the car door for her. "I'll see if I can find Darren, and you talk to the Highness for me."

"No," she corrected, "You get me Darren, _alive_ , and I'll get you that alliance." She got into the car while he considered the proposal.

He got in on the other side. "What if he's dead?" He asked.

"He's not." She stated. "But if he is, you can secure his body and tell me who's responsible. Please don't move him, then, he'd want m- us to perform the Last Rites. Also, it'd be nice if you'd provide a knife or a sword or something, so I can slaughter whomever is responsible."

He started the engine. "You're really serious about this guy."

"He's my best friend." She said, as if that was all the explanation he needed.

Tavitian, of course, didn't accept it. "Is he really worth going to war for?"

Her lips quirked in a half-amused smile. "Oh, _meinher_ , you obviously haven't met my friend yet."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Tavvy's in." She flung the door shut behind her, turned the blinds shut and plopped down in her chair, throwing her legs over the armrest.

Sean barely looked up from his work. "He hates nicknames."

"Well, this better stay between us, then." She rolled her head back. "There's nothing else we can do now, is there?"

"No." He met her gaze for a moment. "We wait, now."

"I hate waiting." She groaned. "I'm not good at waiting. Can't we do something else? Find a case, solve a murder, retrieve a stolen necklace, anything? I need a distraction."

"You could do some Interpol work." He suggested, "You know, what you're here for."

She scoffed. "Yeah, right." She sat up a bit, and eyed the stack of paperwork on his desk. "You want me to leave you alone? I can go pester someone else, if you want."

He stopped working for a moment to smile at her. "It's fine." He assured her, that strange glint in his eyes. "You can stay, this isn't that important."

"All right, then." She sat up fully, now, and scooted a bit closer. "Come on, I wanna help. What do I do?"

He pushed some papers her way. "You can do these, they're not confidential." He slid a pen over, as well, so she could write.

"So exciting." She opened the first file. "Paperwork. I feel so _alive._ I wish I had found this much earlier in life, it enriches my existence." She yawned. "Truly, this is the highlight of my week."

He chuckled, met her eyes again. The _thing_ was still there, stronger than ever and shining brightly.

"Either get to work or get out, _Martín._ " He rolled his eyes before returning to the paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! ^_^  
> First of all, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please let me know in any way you'd like ^_^  
> (If you'd like, you can also reach me at [my Tumblr](http://blazeriddle.tumblr.com/ask) or [my twitter](https://twitter.com/blazeriddle))  
> Second of all, I now have about a 4-chapter lead, and I'm planning on posting every Friday for as long as I can keep it up, just so you guys know ^_^  
> Thanks again!


	21. Something wrong

"Something is wrong." Sean announced, the moment Alexae entered his office with the daily coffee.

"I know." She looked over her shoulder. "The Dynamic Duo isn't here. They should be here. I bought coffee for them."

"No, not-" He frowned, "That's worrying, but my cousin's left the palace."

"Right, you win." She put the left-over coffee on the desk and sat down. "Do you know why? Any chance he's-"

"He is." Sean sighed heavily, looking at the information on his computer. "I don't know why, though."

"You mean if he's coming after you or me?" She considered it for a moment. "You, probably. If he's after me, either K managed to get the word out to Europe, or Darren talked, and if that happened, they've gotten to him, hurt him, and he's probably-"

"He's not." His eyes darted down to her necklace. "You'd know."

She followed his gaze, grabbed the necklace between her fingers. "Right. You're right." She sighed. "We're in trouble, though. If he's coming this way, it's only a matter of time before he figures out who I am, or what's going here, and then he'll start sticking his fingers into all kinds of pies and his nose in all kinds of business, and before you know it, Portland will be another bastion for that grouping of shitholes you call family. He'll probably kill Nick _and_ you the moment he gets the chance, too, and heaven only knows what'll happen to me. He might kill me, too, and that'll unleash a third world war, I'm sure, and Hank and Monroe and Rosalee and all the Normals will be left to-"

He grabbed her hand, surprising her with a vision of a fall forest and stunning her into silence. "No." He just stated, his eyes gleaming.

"What?"

"We're not going to die." He stated, confident, reassuring. "Not yet. We can still fight."

"Right." She smiled. "Right. Okay." She took a calming breath. "We need to think about this. We need..." She rubbed her temple. "Allies. If we- If we tell the others your cousin is coming, they might be willing to help out. I can't call in reinforcements from Interpol, not until I know what happened to Darren. We could call in the resistance, but Tav's busy, and without him, the others might not want to help. I know nothing else here in the area that could help us out."

"No one." He corrected, thinking himself. "I'll contact everyone. We'll leave the people here alone, for now. They have their own issues." He squeezed her hand before he let go. "We'll be fine."

"Right." She nodded. "Focus on other things for now?"

"Exactly."

"Good, because I got too much coffee this morning." She gestured to the cups. "That never happens."

He took one of the cups and took a sip. "It _is_ a major issue we'll never get over." He stated. "Do you know what happened?"

She shrugged. "I probably chose the wrong future. I'm usually pretty good at chance calculation. Or they're doing something that they're not supposed to, outside their nature or something. It happens." She thought for a moment. "Maybe it's the suppressants."

"So it's temporary."

"Probably." She took one cup and investigated it. "I'm taking more now because of the stress, and because you guys are affected, but the moment I stop, things should get back to normal."

"Affected." Sean narrowed his eyes at her."Because of pheromones?"

"Right." She nodded. "Did you- I don't know, did your Wesen mom ever tell you about them?"

"A bit." He walked around the room to peek through the blinds. "Not really. They're still not here."

"They'll come." She assured him. "Want a biology lesson? It's actually quite interesting, because most of the books I learned this from are from the middle ages, so they talk a bunch about magic. And most of them are wrong. Actually, someone I used to know was working on revising them all. Maybe I should ask Peter about it, see if I can read the new versions."

"All right." He turned around and leaned on his desk, sipping his coffee while he looked at her. "Baffle me."

She smiled. "But no pressure, right?" She took a sip of her own coffee and took a moment to arrange her words. "Many creatures, including humans, spread pheromones to subconsciously influence the world around them. Some Wesen, like Blutbaten, secrete pheromones when hunting or angry, to signify aggression and to scare their pray. Many also secrete pheromones when they're scared, to placate their attacker. Some creatures are more sensitive to certain types of pheromones. Hunters are supposed to be incredibly sensitive for fear, and prey is more sensitive for things like aggression. Or comfort."

"And where do you fit in?" Sean indulged her.

" _Voi_ \- Th-" She took a deep breath. " _My kind_ has a tendency to smell... well, _strongly._ And it's worse with me. Grimms react aggressively to it, so Nick will feel angry at me all the time, and he won't know why."

"Because you won't tell him." Sean nodded and offered her a smile when she opened her mouth to defend herself. "I get it. I didn't tell him until I had to, either." His phone rang, and he stood to answer it.

"Captain Renard. ...Yes, we're on our way." He hung up. "Well that explains why they're not here. Apparently, there's some case on a farm outside of town."

"All right." She gulped down her tepid coffee and collected herself. "And why are we being called in? I mean, say what you want about them as people, but Nick and Hank are good detectives."

He shrugged. "Hank didn't say." He took his keys from his desk and slung his coat over his shoulders. "But there was what sounded like a pig on the background."

"Awesome." She groaned and stretched, and he watched her, again with that glint in his eyes, as he passed her on his way to the door. "We're going to a bleeding _pigsty_."

"We'll fit right in."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Nick greeted them near the entrance of the farm, as did the smell, and two curious pigs. Alexae sighed as she got out of the car, looking around her. They'd gotten onto the property over a bridge and through a gate, and the entire thing was surrounded by a broad, shallow moat. There were pigs roaming everywhere.

"What's this, then?" She asked, dreading the answer.

"Free-range pigs." Nick explained. "It's good for the meat."

She scowled as one of the pigs sniffed her jeans. "Great." She noticed the generator on the bridge, metal wires running down from it to the water. "And that's the free-range bacon maker, I'm guessing?"

"It keeps them from escaping, according to the owner." Nick explained, leading their way further onto the property.

"I doubt we're here to talk bacon." She noted, doubling her strides to catch up with him. "What happened?"

"The farmer's wife disappeared." Nick explained.

"Murder?"

"Maybe." Nick made a face. "But we don't have a body."

"Wh-oh." She exhaled. "Pigs. Do we have anything else?"

"Two dead boars." Nick led them around a barn, to where they'd barricaded off a small area.

"Were they poisoned?" The Captain asked, opening the barricades to let her through.

"No." The pigs came into view. Their bodies were badly scratched, and their heads were torn off their bodies along with bits of their spines, like giant, bloody screws that were removed. Someone had ripped them apart with their bare hands.

"Well." She stood just inside the barricades, surveying the scene. "They could still be poisoned."

Nick quirked his brow at her. "Somehow, I doubt it."


	22. The True Omnivores

They decided to hold off on investigating the crime scene until Hank returned from interviewing the farmer. Alexae stayed to the side a bit, careful not to touch the pigs' blood but investigating the wounds from afar. Something big had done this, something big and feral. In her head, she was already making a list of suspects.

"What do you think?" Nick asked, approaching her. He seemed more at ease than normal, more relaxed. Must be the manure in the air.

She shrugged. "This wasn't human." She stated the obvious. "Are there any bears in this area?"

"I don't think a bear can do this." Nick surveyed the pigs.

"Maybe..." She pretended to think for a moment. "Maybe some massive radioactive bear that we don't know about yet?"At his face, she smirked. "Yeah, a bit far-fetched. It's probably Wesen."

The captain looked up from his investigation of the area as she said it. "A feral, could be anyone."

"Well." She shrugged. "Anyone bigger than a..." She blanked for a moment, frowning. " _Faciem Mus_?" She asked, trying again when they just looked confused. "Visage de souris? Ehm... Mouse face?"

"Maushertz." Sean offered, walking their way. "But yes, it could be anyone who has the strength for it."

"We don't have much to go on." Nick said, producing a pair of gloves and turning a pig head so she could study it. "Maybe something with fangs? They're torn apart."

to the side. "Do you have more gloves? Or do you have-" She paused and suddenly turned, looking past the captain and at the house. "Someone is- Hank." She shook her head to clear it. "Of course."

"Are you-"

"I'm fine." She waved Sean's worried look away. "As good as always." She turned back a little as two set of footsteps approached. "Just peachy."

"There's the backup." Hank smiled at her as he approached, a man in coveralls right behind him. "This is Agent Martín, a consultant from Interpol, and our captain Sean Renard."

"Pleasure to meet you." She bowed briefly, wrinkling her nose a bit at the scent. He smelled like he'd just cleaned a sty... or rolled around in it. She could discern nothing from him, not without touching him. "Sorry to ask, but can you tell us what happened?"

The farmer sighed sadly. "Mah pigs were a-makin' a helluvalot of noise this mornin', an' I thought to meself it duddn' make sense, so I wen' do see an' foun'-" He huffed. "I foun' mah missus."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Your... wife." She resisted quirking a brow. "What... part?"

"Her-" He swallowed something down. "Foot."

Hank nodded. "We secured it, it's inside."

"Right." She turned away from him, surveyed the scene once more. "I'm assuming you've given a statement?"

"Yes, ma'am." The farmer nodded, "Mr. Griffin dril-"

"Good." She waved him off a bit as she moved to the pigs. "Does anyone have a pen knife?"

Nick produced a set of rubber gloves for her. "I don't."

She slipped on the gloves and kneeled at the carcasses. "Griffin? Cap?"

Sean checked his pockets and tossed her a butterfly knife. "Will this do, Highness?" He asked, humor in his voice and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She glared at him. "I have a knife."

Sean chuckled and moved his coat so she could see his shoulder holster.

"All right, you win." She flipped open the knife and took a deep breath. Subtly, she checked that her jacket covered her arms, with no gap between it and her gloves. "Here we go." She estimated where the stomach would be, took another deep breath, and brought the knife down.

_"Just like that. Down in one go, with power. Go through the skin."_

_"This feels weird."_

_"You're doing great. Just... steady hands."_

She pulled the knife down, the blade just long enough to pierce through the layers of fat. If only she had her own... but it didn't matter now. She sliced again, and managed to get deeper through the tissue. After another slice, a greenish-grey liquid spilled out, bringing bits and pieces and a smell with it.

 She nearly gagged, but withheld it. Not daring to take another breath, she sheathed the knife in the blubbering flesh and started digging around with her hands, hoping to find _something_.

From behind her, there was a disgusted groan.

"Yeah, you might want to look away." She found her hand gripping something intact, something _bigger_.

A red-lacquered finger, cut off at the second knuckle. She swallowed, holding back her thoughts. After searching around for a moment longer, she decided to give up, and took the knife and stood.

"Nothing of significance here." She concluded, and moved to the other one.

_"Go on, one swift slide. You can do it."_

"There's something here." She dug her fingers deeper into the second stomach and grasped a small metal chain from within. Pulling it out, she revealed a necklace with two rings, covered in grey slime.

"Does your-" She shielded the farmer from the view as she turned to look at him. "Did your wife have a necklace?"

The farmer looked confused. "Nah, why?"

She looked down at her hands. "Evidence." She held out the necklace, now. "Pretty big, I think. I think they're wedding rings."

Nick bagged it. "We'll clean them, see if we can get anything from the lab."

"We might not have to." She stood, wiped the knife on the gloves and snapped it shut. "If these _are_ wedding rings, and I think they are, whoever lost them probably wants them back."

Sean took his knife back, bagging it before he pocketed it. "You sound like you have a plan, Martín." He had a small smirk playing around his mouth, "What is it?"

"The W-Who did this is still out there." She explained. "Possibly hurt, and the moment they find out they lost the rings, they're going to be angry, confused, maybe even desperate to get it back. They will come back to find them, and they'll do it as soon as they can. They won't come out in daylight, but the moment the sun goes down, they'll come back. We just need to be here to capture that moment."

Sean's smile grew, that now familiar sparkle in his eyes. "A stakeout."

"Basically." She smiled back at him. "Been a while since I've done that. Should be fun."

Nick quirked a brow at her. "I don't think you know how stakeouts work."

"You've just never been on one with me." Her smile turned into a smirk before she looked back at Sean, serious. "There's something I need to do first, though. Can you drive me to the... place?"

He nodded, understanding, but Nick scoffed a little. "The _place_."

Hank chuckled a little. "Afterwards, let's go do the _thing_."

She glared at them. "Just for that, you guys get the first _useless_ shift until we return."


	23. Truth

The temple was as dark and looming as always. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew it was supposed to be calming, silent and spiritual, and all that jazz, but in the front of her mind and in her heart she was just really glad she wasn't alone.

Sean handed her a dark scarf, then waited for her to put it on before guiding her through the big doors with a hand between her shoulders.

"You smell like pig blood." He noted, the rumble of his voice in her ear sending a small shiver down her spine.

She huffed. "I doubt Peter would mind."

As they approached the altar, Maria appeared from behind one of the curtains and gasped when she saw them.

"Your Higne- Miss! I wasn't expecting you here!" Her face darkened a bit when she spotted the Captain. "Mister."

"Maria." Alexae tilted her head a little in greeting. "We're not staying. I was just wondering what kind of... facilities you have here."

Sean's hand moved to her shoulder as he moved to stand next to her. He squeezed it, and she could almost hear him think. _I don't understand_.

She glanced to him. _You will_ , she tried to convey.

"We do." Maria nodded eagerly, smiling at the opportunity to help. "Do you need anything?"

She nodded. "I need to see some of the ritual artifacts, I need something."

"Of course." Maria bowed deeply and quickly bounced off, disappearing behind a curtain.

"What are you planning?" Sean asked, seemingly relaxing when the other woman had left the room.

She shrugged, moving a bit closer to the man to whisper in his ear. She, at least, would never forget how much sound carried in the room. Not again. "You won't give me a gun." She breathed, standing on her tip-toes to reach his ears and placing a hand on his shoulder for balance. "But if shit hits the fan, I need to defend myself." She dropped down, looking up at him with a smirk. "Unless you don't trust me?"

He smirked right back. "I trust you." He rumbled. "You won't kill me. I feed you."

"That you do." She smiled back, but stepped backwards when she noticed movement behind her. She turned just as Maria returned, a thick roll of black cloth in her arms. It was bound together with two silk ribbons, one silver and one gold, and she placed the bundle on the altar with reverence.

Alexae stepped forward, hesitantly, shaking hands stretched out to the two bows. She could hardly believe it, not after all these years. Her fingers caressed the soft, well made fabric  of the cloth, feeling the metal secured inside, the different things slightly shifting within, secure in their confines.

There was something stuck in her throat.

"Could you give us a moment?" She vaguely registered Sean ask, miles away.

Maria's fumbling brought her back up. "I'm not supposed to leave the artifacts with anyone-"

" _Leave_." She ordered, her eyes transfixed on the cloth. "We'll call on you when we need you."

Her footsteps separated her from them. There was the rustle of drapes, and, a little after, the clicking of a door.

"Do you want me to..." He didn't finish his sentence.

She frowned. "No." Hands still shaking, she pulled one of the sliver strings. The fabric flowed down almost of its own accord, slipping from between her fingers like liquid, like sand.

Like silk.

She pulled the second cord and the fabric fell open a little, teasing with a small glimpse of its contents. She could feel Sean move in closer behind her, loom over her shoulder to watch what she was doing. His warmth was bleeding through her back.

With one bold theatrical sweep, she rolled out the cloth to reveal the insides. Seven silver, gleaming, heavily decorated knifes in varying sizes lay reflecting the candle light, their image stuck between soft and menacing. The golden ribbon was still clinging to the cloth, keeping the last curl of fabric firmly in place with a few loose stitches.

"Oh, sweet nostalgia." Her soft voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Feels like coming home."

He rubbed her shoulders. "Your home isn't very welcoming."

"Oh, you have no idea." She hovered her hand over the smallest knife, a small, thin thing of maybe three inches in total, designed to look like a miniature cinquedea. The blade seemed to be made up from five rounded metal rods tapering off to a point and with grooves in between, every inch of it heavily inscribed with runes. Its edges seemed neatly rounded, but she knew it was just a deception.

"What does it say?" Sean asked, his hands massaging her tense muscles.

"May." She traced the runes before picking up the knife and sheathing it in its accompanying holster. "They didn't store them properly." She took the third knife and sheathed it as well, tracing the word as she did. "Light." She took the biggest knife, admiring the handiwork in the rods, the lines flowing gracefully between the runes, dancing in the candlelight. "Everlasting." She shoved it into its sheath, darkening the world a little. She continued, bit by bit, until there was nothing left but sheathed blades, dark cloth, a gleam of gold.

"May brightest light guide paths towards everlasting." She looked at the knives, her heart pounding through her ribcage. As she'd been working, Sean's hands had slowed to a stop, resting comfortingly on her shoulders.

"That's not a sentence."

"I know." Nimble fingers untied the golden sash. "You need one more thing." Certain now, secure, almost confident, she pushed open the last piece of cloth, revealing the last secret. The knife was long and sleek, maybe even twelve inches, and as intricately decorated as all the others. The only difference was that this one seemed to be made of solid gold. "Truth."

Sean sighed, resting his head on hers. "You're taking that one, aren't you?"

"Well." She took the sheath and strapped it to her belt with practiced movements. "It's always good to have the truth on your side." She lifted the knife, but hesitated for moment. "Maria! We need to talk!"

The woman appeared as if she'd been waiting right behind the curtain. "Yes, Miss?"

"I'm taking Truth." She showed her the knife before she put it away. "I need it."

"No!" Maria ran towards them, hands outstretched. "I can't let you take an Artifact! Those are Peter's! Those are expensive! What if we need to do a rite?"

"Anything you do, you won't need Truth for." She reminded her. "You don't need it for anything. Truth's _mine_."

Maria's face turned sad for a brief moment, before an placating smile was plastered  onto it. "We share everything with the universe, nothing is truly our own." It sounded like a mantra, a reminder.

Alexae rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this." She groaned. "I am _taking_ Truth. I _will_ return it. You _won't_ need it until I do, and you _won't_ call the cops, because they are on my side." She turned and started marching to the double doors. "Come on, Captain."

Sean offered the other woman a last nod in goodbye, and followed his friend.

"You can be very threatening when you want to." Sean noted as he waited for her to take off the scarf.

She turned and smirked at him. "Oh, I _know._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> If you liked it, have questions, prompt ideas or just want to talk to me, you can find me on Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram and Wordpress as BlazeRiddle! :D


	24. Stakeout

They arrived at the pig farm to support Nick and Hank just after dinner, bringing some takeaway for the detectives. Alexae had taken the time to switch into an extra-long jacket, covering most of the dagger. It worked for now, but with all the detectives hanging around it was in no way a permanent solution. She needed a better hiding place.

For now, though, with the Grimm tired and hungry and his partner in the same state, a jacket was enough. She fed them and sent them off, agreeing to meet them again in a couple of hours. A stakeout like this was taxing and far from ideal, but they couldn't risk anyone else finding out about the feral.

Sean and Alexae settled down in Sean's car near the entrance of the terrain, ready to kill some time.

"So," She reclined her chair and stared up to the roof, “This is the point where we learn each other's embarrassing secrets, no?"

Sean chuckled. "You already know everything about me."

"So you learn my secrets." She rifled through the takeaway bag and fished out two cans of soda.

"I don't have to." He took both cans, opened them, and handed one back. "I think I already know more than most people."

"You do." She agreed. "I don't mind. You're allowed to. You're my-" She swallowed,"-friend."

"All right." He sipped his drink and reclined his seat as well. "Then tell me why you're having trouble with certain words."

"What do you-" The look in his eyes told her he wouldn't buy any of her usual excuses. "It's... culture, I guess. I didn't have the easiest upbringing."

"I know." He rested his hand on the gear shift. "Tell me about it?"

She sighed. "They always told me I was... _special._ " She spit the word as if it tasted terrible. "I was... above everyone. They told me. I couldn't have friends, because no one was good enough. Even Darren never really... I know I call him _that_ , but officially I'm just an asset." She touched her necklace, thoughtful. "It took him years to convince me he didn't think of me that way. Even now, I have a hard time sometimes."

He hummed. "Must've been hard, growing up like that." Unlike most people when she relayed her past, there was no sarcasm in his voice.

"Yeah." She turned a bit, stared at his hand. "Yeah, it was. I never... I was born for the community. I wasn't supposed to have parents, just uncles and cousins and aunts. Sometimes nephews. But everyone was supposed to be equal to me, I couldn't have favorites."

"Did you?"

"Of course." She smiled at the memory. "This one woman would come in a couple of times every week when I was very young. She helped me learn all kinds of things, and she nearly always snuck me sweets. I adored her."

"What happened to her?" Sean's voice was soft, and he had turned to look at her as she still stared down.

"She..." She could feel her eyes darken as the memory overtook her. "She started bringing her husband at some point. He was such a gentle soul, a doctor in physics with those thin-rimmed round glasses. He'd sit me down with his books in the gardens on sunny afternoons, spending hours trying to explain the world to me. In the end, one of them was there nearly every day."

Sean sat up a little, the hand on the gear twitching. "The end?"

"One afternoon when the woman was leaving, she hugged me. We were always very careful, but it didn't matter. It was just a brush, but-" She sniffed."-She was thinking about it. I _knew_ , _I knew_ I shouldn't, but-" She couldn't conceal a sob, the image burned into her mind's eye. " _They heard me_."

The burning feeling that was always lingering just under her skin burst out, and she couldn't contain a small cry as her face shifted. It was brief, painful as she fought to reel it back, intense enough to make her double over and hide her head between her legs.

A heavy hand landed on her back, his fingers splaying out between the protruding bumps of her shoulders. It was still, soothing, warm, and somewhere, faint through the rushing within her own head, she heard the rumbling of his voice.

It was enough. Her inner voice stopped screaming, after a minute, and she stopped fighting. She just sat, bent over, panting, her horns nearly poking his hand.

"Sorry." She opened her eyes, her irises glowing like embers, realities and what-ifs overwhelming her senses. "I'm- sorry."

"Don't be." He raised his hand, carefully tracing and stroking the black points, fascinated.

"No, I-" She took a deep breath. "I should have this stuff under control by now." She tried to make sense of the layers she saw, and thankfully, his hand was in every one. "But here I am."

"Yes." He leaned forward, took a pill bottle from his dashboard compartment and shook out two pills. "You are."

She opened her mouth, too worn out to do anything more. His fingers brushed her lips, but she was too numb to really react. As if on autopilot, she swallowed, feeling the capsules slide dryly down her throat. The reality was slipping, falling apart like a book without binding, the pages flitting around her. In every single one, though, he was there, in some darker than others.

"I need some air."

She opened the door and nearly jumped out, changing back as much as she could. She still couldn't fully control it, but at least she wasn't sporting obvious horns anymore.

Sean rolled down his window. "Don't go far." He half-ordered. "I need you here if something happens."

"Sure." She nodded, zipped up her jacket. "I'll just walk the perimeter. Be right back." She turned, letting the darkness soothe her, the nothingness overlapping in every vision.

She noticed a roar.

She turned, trying to locate the source. In the distance, she could notice the vague outline of the car. There were one or two pigs scuffling around as bait, most of them locked away safely in the pen. On the other side of the moat, bushes moved in the wind. There was nothing there, nothing moving and nothing laying in wait.

Without really thinking about it, she pulled out her phone and stared at the clock as time progressed. The roar came again, nearly exactly the same, and she watched the clock as it jumped forward. Half past twelve.

"Oh, _fuck_."

She stuffed it back into her pocket and sprinted back to the car, ripping open the passenger's side door. "What time is it?" She demanded, ignoring Sean's surprise.

He checked his watch. "Quarter to twelve." He answered, "Why?"

"Overlapping realities." She explained. "We have forty-five minutes before the beast comes, call the others."

He grabbed his phone. "What beast?"

"I don't-" She shook her head, still struggling to lose the visions. "There was just a roar at twelve thirty. There will be a roar. Whatever." She put her head in her hands. "I need to be normal before they come."

As he put his phone to his ear, he reached out, ruffling her hair seemingly without thinking. "Presentable." He corrected. "Don't ever be normal."

She smiled at him. "Presentable." She agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just passed the 100 page mark! ^_^
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think of the story so far. I have big plans for it, and it's far from over ^_^
> 
> If you have any ideas for stories, or just want to chat, come find me! I'm on a lot of social media as BlazeRiddle :)


	25. Bullheaded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for missing my deadline this Friday! I had important deadlines and I forgot I had things to do outside of that. I does mean that there are two chapters this week, though :)

When Nick and Hank arrived half an hour later, the suppressants had kicked in, and she felt a lot more stable. As she got out of the car to greet them, she relished in the solid ground beneath her, the clear and unobstructed vision she had of the two men.

"Just in time for the action, boys." She grinned at them. "We're nearly certain the beast will come in the next half hour. If we stake out at strategic places, we can't miss it. Him. Them." She frowned at herself before continuing. She'd already thought out a strategy. "They'll try to get to the boars. You guys set up at both sides of the crime scene, the captain at the pen, and I-"

"Will stay here." Sean interrupted. He continued as she tried to glare a hole through his forehead. "You have no weapon-" his eyes briefly darted to her hip, though "- and no way to defend yourself. It's better if you stay in the car and protect the evidence."

"What the-" She reigned herself in. "You're _not_ keeping me out of this one. _You_ do _not_ get to _push me around_." She was breathing heavily, barely holding herself back.

He took her by the wrist and pressed something into her hand. Eve with the plastic around it, she recognized the necklace. "I'm not." He promised. "He'll do anything to get this. You need to keep it safe and keep an eye on the bridge. If something happens, he'll flee through there."

 She didn't stop glaring at him. "You're shutting me out." She stated.

"No, I'm-" He grabbed her by the shoulders, made her meet his eyes. "I'm not. Trust me."

She deflated. "All right." She nodded. "Sure. Let's do this." She'd have to. She was assuming he had some sort of plan, or a reason to leave her out, but she had no idea what it was. She just hoped it wasn’t to _protect her_ or something like that, because if it was, she would kill him when this all was over.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

She spent half an hour sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, trying not to doze off in the darkness with the necklace clutched between her fingers. It was getting later, she’d been running on a lot of stress lately, and the car was comfortably warm. She was surrounded with the ghosts of Sean’s aftershave, the clinging smell of the cologne he sometimes used, and, when she turned her head just right, the faintest whiff of his shampoo. She’d been living with the smells for weeks, almost months now, and they’d grown to be comforting. Even with the crick it gave her in her neck, the coffee table she’d hit her knees on in her sleep the other day, and the sun shining right in her face in the earliest morning, the couch was one of the softest and most comfortable places she’d ever crashed on, and it was partly because of the smell lingering everywhere in the apartment. She barely even dared to think it, but she’d almost started to think of it as _ho-_

There was a crack nearby, somewhere in the bushes, and she froze. From the darkness, the safety of the seat she followed the sound. Heavy footsteps thumped closer, a grunt and something akin to a crash signaled something crossing the moat with difficulty. She could see the shadow land just on the steep edge and scramble up a bit, grunting heavily. She stayed stock still as it got up to its full -impressive- height, grunted once more, and started running in the direction of the dead boars.

She’d caught a glimpse of its face, its gleaming eyes, and a set of pointy horns. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but the size of it only spelled trouble. She didn’t need a vision to know how it would end.

Silently, she slipped out of the car, the necklace in her pocket, and followed it at a safe distance. She was lucky that it was moving upwind, because she wasn’t quite sure what she smelled like at the moment.

The next crash had her fall down into the shadows further, her hairs standing on end. _It came from the pen_. She slipped closer as silently as she could, surveying what was going on without showing herself. The creature stood tall and menacing, snarling at the captain. The man seemed small, now, but not afraid. His weapon was drawn and pointed at its chest, his face changed into a picture of decay.

There was shouting. She could sense Nick running closer his weapon probably drawn, too. There was no way this could end well, they would start shooting and miss and hit Sean, or the monster would fall on him and crush him, or they would miss and the creature would rip them all to shreds. She had to do something, and preferably before something happened to Sean.

She stepped into the sparse light, meeting Sean’s eyes for a fraction of a second before she started shouting. “Hey! Hey, Bonehead!” She put as much force behind it as she could, and the creature turned.

“Leave him alone!” She pulled the necklace out of her pocket. “You want this, right?!” She swung the necklace around in the air, making sure it saw it clearly.

She could see Sean’s face darken. “Alex, don’t-”

“Leave me.” She squared her shoulders and grinned. “Trust me.” She wrapped the chain around her wrist as she held it up. Maybe, if she convinced him she had a plan, she could convince herself as well. “You want this, come get it!”

The creature roared and started towards her. She turned on her heels and shot in the other direction, as fast as her legs could carry her. It was bigger and probably faster and would possibly rip her arm from her body if he caught up with her, so she needed to keep the head start. As fast as she could, she zigged past the pen and zagged around the terrain, frantically seeking for a way out. If she could hide somewhere, she could shake it, but it was too close on her tail. If she stopped to open a door now, he’d surely catch up, and there was nowhere else to go.

Unless…

She turned sharply and ran straight past the creature, back towards the car, putting in whatever leftover energy she could muster, panting has her legs nearly ran so fast her body couldn’t keep up. If only she could make it... Fighting through the suppressants, she estimated the chance of her surviving the chase.

Well.

Sometimes it was best to fight against the odds.

The car neared, and she turned towards the moat. Fumbling, she closed her fingers around the heft near her waist, focused the last of her strength into her legs, and leaped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> If you want to talk to me, please come find me at my socials, @BlazeRiddle :D


	26. Broken

For a brief moment, she felt like flying, but she couldn’t focus on it, because her brain was crowding with all the ways this could go wrong. She grabbed the knife and flung it, hoping her calculations were correct, and turned her head to see if it landed.

It did.

There was a crackle and a flash as the blade hit the machine, and it blinded them both.

The ground came at her hard and unexpectedly, and she could hardly put her legs underneath her before she crashed. It didn’t matter, though, because behind her the creature had ran straight into the highly charged water. She fell to her knees, her ankle hurting from the landing, and turned to look behind her. The creature was trapped in the moat, electrified until the battery’s safety kicked in and shut it off.

“ _Merde._ ” She gasped, coughing a little as she tried to catch her breath. “Shit, I’m glad that worked out.”

“So am I.” Sean came walking from the pen, followed by Nick and Hank, all three smirking at her. “But you’re an idiot.”

“I know.” She rolled on her back, trying to take a few deep breaths. “Why this time?”

Sean walked to the battery and inspected it. “You can’t tell me you planned this.”

“Well.” She sat up a bit. “Not… fully, no.” She stood, trying to put her weight on the ankle and nearly falling over. “But I might’ve thought out some things.”

“Might?” Nick quirked a brow at her.

“Well, I improvised. But I’m good at it, no?” She waved at the creature. “I have evidence.”

“Right.” Hank kneeled down, hoisting the creature out of the moat with help from Nick. “We won’t deny that. You all right?”

“Yeah.” She tried to stand again. “Twisted my ankle on landing, though, might need some help getting back.

“Of course.” Sean reached out to her, grabbing her hand and practically lifting her over the moat.

She looked up at him. He was still changed, half of his face looking like it had _gone_ about fifty years ago. “At least we know what you’ll look like in two hundred years.”

“Oh.” He rubbed his face, changing back in the process. “Sorry.”

“I’m not bothered.” She smiled up at him, and realized that she was still standing incredibly close. She’d step back, but he was practically holding her up. “Time to go, then?”

“All right.” He smiled back down at her. “Do you need a doctor?”

She tried standing on her foot again. Her ankle had been heavily twisted, maybe she even torn something, but she shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” She winched as they walked a few steps. “I’ll live.”

He opened the door and helped her get in, that familiar sparkle in his eyes. “Let’s hope so.” He closed the door and turned to his subordinates, giving them the final orders to clean up the scene before he got into the car on the other side.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked, his voice soft, his eyes studying her face for any trace of a lie.

She shook her head. “Not really.” She turned her foot to test it. “It doesn’t feel broken, though. I think I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“If you say so.” He started the car. “We can stop at the hospital.” He suggested. “Or the… Peter.”

“The temple is closed at this time of night.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I’m fine.”

He huffed but decided not to react. Instead, he turned of off the terrain, over the bridge and towards the main road. “Home, then?”

She smiled faintly. “Home.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

_I am Frederick Cooper Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth, the luckiest of the line of Serpentis. I am servant to the Divine Highness only, serving her with my mind, my soul, my heart and hands and every piece of my being, protecting and shielding her from every and any harm that may or may not come to her. I will serve Her Divinity until the day I die and I will take her secrets with me to my grave._

He could feel the blood dripping down his body, mixing with all the other indiscernible fluids already there. The darkness was normal, now, the hours feeling like an eternity. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would spend the rest of his days here.

He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days. Probably not days, because his throat felt decently all right, but there was no way of telling.

He didn’t stop to think about his own predicament for long, though. _I am Frederick Cooper Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth,_ He repeated, _the luckiest of the line of Serpentis. I am-_

Light streamed in as the door opened, and he squinted against it. That hated black silhouette was back.

“Servant to the Divine Highness only, serving her with my-”

He kicked him in the stomach. “You can stop it now, Worm.” His voice drawled, “You bore me with your _servant_ talk.”

“You will never break me.” He growled darkly.

“Oh, I don’t have to.” There was a flick as he created a small flame to light his cigar, puffing the tufts of smoke confidently. “Not anymore.”

“What the _hell_ -” He scrambled to sit up. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means. Mr. _Duncombe-_ ” He spit out the name, “That we have found your little master.”

“ _No_ , you-” He’d half risen, fist ready to strike, but was quickly beaten down by a heavy shoe. He fell back to the floor, wheezing. “ _What-!_ ”

The heavy boot rested on the side of his head. “I warned you when you started your little _adventure_. No matter how hard you try to run, _I will always find her._ And my dear, dear little adder, _we found her_. All we have to do now is get her back from… ah, Portland, Oregon. Interesting. Now what could she be doing _there_?”

He growled. “You will _never_ break us.”

“Really?” He put some more weight on his foot. “Because I think that I already have.” He lifted his foot and walked back to the door. “Well, we’ll see soon enough.”

Darkness returned with a heavy slam.


	27. Aftermath

“How did she do that?” Hank questioned, examining the broken battery. He could see the bent gears, the broken wires, the burnt parts where it had short-circuited, but he couldn’t find _anything_ that might’ve caused it. Whatever it was, it had been slammed in with a great amount of force, enough to bend and even cut through the steel, and at an angle. Hank squinted. “You have a knife?” He asked, as his partner approached. Nick flipped out a pocket knife and handed it to him, and Hank stuck it into the hole. It fit with room to spare, but the form matched exactly. “The Captain took back his knife, right?”

Nick frowned at it. “Yeah, but maybe he gave it back. We don’t know what happened when they were gone.”

“Or where they went.” Hank gave the knife back. “I think this is bigger than that knife.”

“Do you think the Captain _armed_ her?” Nick considered his own question. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Yeah, they’ve gotten weirdly close.” Hank snapped a picture and got up. “They have in-jokes, now.”

Nick chuckled. “ _Will this do, highness?_ ” He mimicked his captain’s voice. “Do you think they’re…”

“Nah.” Hank waved it off. “She’d never betray her _precious_ Darren.”

“Wait, you think _they’re_ together?”

“Hell, yes.” Hank opened the doors to their car. The bull in the back was slowly coming to. “Have you heard how she talks about him? She’s more in love with him than any of my wives were.”

“Well,” Nick ducked to get into the car. “That’s why you’re not married anymore.”

Hank glared at him and started the car. “There’s something about her, though.” He changed the subject. “Did you hear back from Rosalee and Monroe yet?”

“Not yet.” Nick sighed. “Apparently, there’s a lot of stories surrounding the Cults and Temples and all that stuff. There’s no way of telling what’s real.”

“So it’s a religion.” Hank looked in the rear-view mirror as he backed up, and noticed the bull had Woged back into a man. “Maybe the big guy knows more.”

“Maybe we should ask that priest, but I don’t think he’ll talk to us.” Nick thought for a moment. “Maybe we should send Monroe and Rosalee, he doesn’t know them.”

“They have an excuse, they could say they’re scouting for a venue.” Hank nodded. “We should call them first thing on Monday.”

There was a scuffle in the back, and Nick turned in his seat to look at the man. “Look who’s waking up!” He smirked darkly at the man. “You’re under arrest.”

The man groaned. “Where am I?”

“Back of a police car.” Hank turned onto the street. “You killed a woman, and some pigs, but you’re arrested for killing the woman.”

“I-” the man paled. “That wasn’t a dream? I- Oh, I’m so, so-” He choked. “I killed a woman. But I-” He sat up. “It wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been me. It was this monster-”

“Try again, buddy.” Hank raised a brow at him through the rear-view mirror. “We know you’re _Wesen_.”

“Yeah, what are you?” Nick asked, trying to think of all the names from his books. “Mordstier? Taureus-Armenta?”

His eyes widened. “Grimm.” He realized.

“No,” Hank shook his head. “No, that’s _him_.” He pointed at his partner. “We asked about you.”

The man sighed. “I’m Mordstier.” He explained. ”I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to- that _poor woman_.”

Nick turned back to the front. “So who are the rings for?”

“The-” The man noticed the necklace Nick was showing him. “Oh. It was… My wife’s. Sophia’s.” He sighed. “She was the love of my life. We… we lived in New York. Had a little one, Casey. A picture-perfect family, I thought, but-” He sighed again.

“We should do this at the station.” Hank yawned. “On Monday.”

“You’re going to leave me in a cell over the weekend?”

“It’s so you can get used to it.” Nick put the necklace in the glove box. “What happened? We still have a long drive to go.”

The man leaned back. “I thought Sophia was an accountant, but one day… It turned out it was coke money. They came for her, her family. I was the only one who got away.”

“I’m sorry.” Nick was sincere. Even when the man was a murderer, it was heard to hear how his life got destroyed.

“After, I moved here.” He concluded. “I wanted to start again.”

“Well, that worked out.” Hank rolled his eyes. “We’ll need to take your statement when we get to the station.” He explained, “And considering the time, it’ll be Monday. But don’t worry, your hotel will be all-in.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Does he make that joke every time?”

“Yeah.” Nick found a power bar between the papers near his feet. “So, do you know anything about Wesen Cults? From New York, maybe?”

The man quirked his brow. “New York is a strange place.” He reminded them. “How much do you want to know?”

Nick checked the GPS. “It’s still a forty-five minute drive. How fast can you talk?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The first stroke, he found, was always the hardest. Dipping the metal tip into the dark ink for the first time, tracing it over the virgin white paper to make the first line. He could understand the ancient monks’ fascination with embellishing _every_ first letter. The sacrifice of an underappreciated tree should be honored, every time. If he wasn’t in a hurry, he’d pay it the same respect. For now, though, he could only ponder as he let his pen trace the dark figures spinning around in his mind. He could moan about his bad penmanship later, if he had the time.

_Time._

He was running out of the stuff, and quickly as well. He could feel the hot breath of Fate in his neck, could feel the cold fingers trailing down his back. He had one job, and he needed to finish it before he ran out of time.

The proof was there, right in front of him.

They were coming, and they were many. He didn’t need his sister’s talents to know it wasn’t going to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the unannounced break. I've been busy over the summer. Regular uploads should come back as the school year rolls around, though, and I still have a bit of a buffer so I'll be able to upload for the next few weeks, at least.  
> Uploads will be on Wednesdays until further notice, since I have to take care of school stuff on Fridays.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know via social media, @BlazeRiddle, or in the comments, what you think so far!


	28. Gilded cage

Her spacious hotel room felt like a golden cage, but she had to play the aristocrats’ game if she ever wanted a chance to see her baby again. The Royals were looking for her as well, and they had the kind of resources that could track her down. She knew she was a prisoner, though, felt locked in even when the windows weren’t barred and the guards were there _for their safety_. Everything changed, though, when one of the silent servants brought in a heavy manila envelope, her name written on it in heavily embellished letters. Even before she opened it, she felt like it was a chance, but as she unfolded it, she realized it would be her ticket out of there.

_To Ms. Adalind Shade, or Whomever of her associates it may concern,_

_Ms. Shade,_

_Even though this hand might seem unfamiliar to you, and We can assure you that the name you will find at the bottom of the letter when you can no longer contain your curiosity and your eyes dart to the bottom of the script will be in no way known to you, We’d like to let you know that We are familiar with you. Your mother was an avid follower of the Paths We walk, and We were saddened and baffled to learn she did not instill the same piety in you. We have been severely disappointed in your actions and the consequences that you have instilled upon yourself._

_Allow Us to prove to you We are familiar with the Paths you have walked by showing the footprints you have made. We know, of course, about the circumstances of your birth. We know the identity of your father and the tricks your mother pulled to make sure you came into existence, which might be more than you do. We remember why you and your mother migrated to Portland, Oregon, even when it might have faded from your mind. We remind you that you once decided to be a lawyer, and We remind you that you did this for a reason._

_We’d also like to remind you of the reason of your and your mother’s association with Sean Renard._

_We know you have in the past tried and failed to kill the Grimm named Marie Kessler in service of Sean Renard. We know that your mother has had relations with him, and that you have, as well. We know, of course, of the product of these relations._

_None of these steps are a true secret, and even the ones you perceive to be are not hidden from Us. The veil you use to try to hide your past will not shield it from Our eyes. It is as open and clear to us as if it were a spotlight being shone on by another spotlight, all illuminated by the all-enlightening shine of the eternal sun. Even the Path ahead, how shrouded it is in shadows, is brighter to Us than it can ever be to you._

_Perhaps you have heard of Us. Perhaps you have heard the whispers in the shadows. Perhaps you have seen Our sanctuaries, have been inside the buildings people call Our temples. Perhaps you are familiar with our powers, the reach We have over the world. We are everywhere. We see everything. We are Past, Present, Future. We are the Ones that control the shadows. We are the Ones who decide what they cover. We are the Omniscient._

_We have a proposition for you. One of Our Own has abandoned Us, has betrayed Us and gone into hiding. Of course, no one can hide from Us. We know where to look, and it just happens that We need to look in Portland, Oregon. A coward tried to hide from Us in the shadows We control, and they have been in plain sight for Us all the time. We have reason to believe that the coward is connected to the Grimm named Nicholas Burkhardt, the one you have tried and failed to eliminate in the past, and to the others he associates with. We have also reason to believe the traitor has contacted your good friend Sean Renard, whom you’ve tried and failed to manipulate in the past. You are connected and familiar with the residents of Portland, Oregon, and with this particular band of associates, and therefore, We implore you to travel back to the area and seek out your old contacts. It is imperative that you find this coward and force them to step out into the light, so We can handle the issue discretely and properly, without using too many of our resources to smoke out the coward. For the future and protection of all Wesen in this world, it is imperative that the traitor is brought back into line._

_The coward’s identity is of no concern to you at this moment. Before, we must ensure your full cooperation. Of course, We will reward you handsomely. As mentioned before, We know about your past. We know about your little offspring. We have eyes everywhere. We know where the little girl named Diana is hidden at this moment, and we have the capacity to bring her back into your arms. In order to make this happen, however, you can not fail to execute the orders we give you. Firstly, you will have to fulfill a wish the Royals have made to Us. You, with your questionable powers and less than stellar track record, will have to prove your competence and loyalty before We allow you to make an impact._

_In order to attain the identity of the Coward and gain a chance of ever seeing your daughter again, you will have to fix this little problem for the Royals, first. They have seen the havoc the Grimm named Nicholas Burkhardt is causing in Portland, Oregon, and they want it to end. The Grimm is becoming a liability. It is your job to stop him, in any way, with the resources you have now. If you manage to do it, we will give you the identity of the Traitor, along with a part of our resources and the chance to see your daughter again._

_Let Us make one thing clear: this is a polite request, but the moment you accept our offer, you will not have any opportunity to back down. If you accept this offer, you will follow Our demands until We tell you not to. Failure is not an option. After you accept this offer, there’s only victory and death._

_May the Paths of Fate be kind on you, and may the Light of Peace brighten those paths._

_May the Brightest Light guide your Paths towards Everlasting Truth._

_With the sincerest greetings,_

_High Counsellor et Callis Veritatis, Callum Di Veritas of the Holy Community of Thebians, Priest of the Divine Temple of the Mountainhead, Torch-carrier of Olympus._


	29. Everlasting

Alexae had nearly fallen asleep by the time Sean turned the engine off, and she didn’t really feel like moving or opening her eyes. She did anyway, groaning slightly, clumsily slamming her hand down on the buckle of her seatbelt.

There was a soft chuckle near her, and gentle, agile hands did the work for her, guiding the belt so it wouldn’t scathe.

“Let me.”

There was a moment of nothing, and then her door opened. Arms scooped her up and she leaned her head against a strong shoulder. “I can walk, you know.”

“You broke your ankle.”

“I sprained it.” She started struggling weakly, but he held her tightly. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“But you’re not fine _now_.” Sean struggled a bit with the lock of the door, but managed to get them both inside.

“I’m heavy though.” She complained, going limp in his arms like a sack of coal.

He hummed as if he was thinking. “Not really.” He walked her to the elevator.

She groaned. “Put me down, Sean, this is getting ridiculous.” She was slowly waking up, and she was sure she could hobble on her own now.

“You saved my life.” His voice was suddenly surprisingly soft gruff, and without looking, she could sense he was looking at her with _that_ sparkle in his eyes. “You deserve to be carried.”

She huffed, staring at the closed elevator doors. “I _really_ don’t.” She managed. “Besides, you would’ve been fine without me. You had him at the end of your barrel.”

He hummed. “You could know.” He noted, “But why did you come save me, then?”

“Because-” She sighed, deflated against his chest. “Even I can’t be sure about the future. It was too much of a risk.”

He stayed curiously silent. The doors opened, and he walked the few steps to his front door.

“I know the feeling.” He put her down, _finally,_ and supported her with one arm as he unlocked the door with his other. His voice was hoarse, and for once he wasn’t looking at her.

“You _were_ benching me.” She couldn’t really be angry at him, not after she’d proven him right by injuring herself. “You _blimming_ liar!”

He opened the door and turned to her, his entire face open and warm. “It was too much of a risk.”

She huffed, placed her hands on his chest and pushed him inside. “You oaf.” She tried to kick the door closed behind them, but forgot about her bad leg, overbalanced, fell face-forward against him.

He chuckled. “Just looking after you.” He admitted, bearing her full weight as he wrapped his arms around her, looking down at her. “ _Obviously_ , you need it.”

“Shut up.” She rested her head against his chest. “Just… shut up.”

“Hey,” He took her chin and tilted her face up. “You know I don’t…”

“I know.” She smiled up at him. Looking into his eyes, leaning against his chest, surrounded by his warmth, she could sense in every cell where this was going. Slowly, eyes darting over her face, he leaned down…

She pressed her face into his chest. He huffed, straightening up a little as he changed his grip on her.

“I’m so-”

“I’d love to.” She mumbled, pressing closer to him. “But I took a dive in pig mud, the smell of feces is probably stuck to both of our clothing, and I need a shower before anything else.”

He chuckled and mostly let go of her. “All right, you go take a shower, leave your clothes outside, I’ll start the laundry.” He watched her hobble off, making sure she didn’t fall over, then moved to the kitchen sink to wash himself off.

In the shower, she turned the water as hot as it got and let the steam wash her thoughts away. No matter how mutual it was, she couldn’t muddy the water with… complications. Besides, the moment Darren returned, things would turn back to normal.

Well, as long as they were in Oregon, she was pretty sure there _was_ no normal.

She scrubbed herself until her skin was red. The pig smell wasn’t an excuse, she was pretty sure the smell would stick for at least two weeks if she didn’t deal with it _now_. If she had the resources, she’d bathe in perfume to get rid of it.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

_“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.” Darren rested his head on her stomach and turned his head to look up at her._

_“Nah.” She rested her small hand in his hair, fingers playing with the strands. “We’ll have fun together!”_

_“You don’t understand.” He sat up. “I’m not- We won’t- We can’t-”_

_She giggled. “You’re such an oaf.” She declared. “I know, things will be difficult, but we can make it work, right? We’ll just be different. Friends.”_

_“Right.” He smiled, “Best friends, mandated and everlasting.”_

_She giggled again. “I have no idea what that means.”_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

When she came out of the shower, a fresh set of sleeping clothes was laying perched right inside the room, Truth right next to it. Its ridges were blackened by the shock of the electricity, but other than that, it seemed fine. She perched on her one leg, crouching to pick it up, rolling it in her palm as she moved back up. It felt achingly familiar, like a returning nightmare.

She rinsed it in the sink, leaving it to dry as she slipped into the tank top he’d provided. She slipped when she tried to put on her bottoms, nearly saving herself with a grip on the sink, her head just grazing the marble.

There was a scuffle at the door. “Are you-”

“Fine.” She huffed. “Still standing, still conscious.” She pulled her pants up. “Were you _waiting_ for me to fall?”

There was a silence. “Maybe.”

“ _Unbelievable._ ” She hopped to the door and swung it open. “I _can_ take care of myself, you know.”

His eyes darted over her body, resting on her foot before shooting back to her eyes, a brow raised. “I really don’t.”

“Shut up.” She started hobbling to the living room door, but he grabbed her arm.

“Take the bed.” He gently steered her in the right direction. “You’re exhausted. I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m _fine._ ” She frowned at him. “Stop- stop _babying_ me. The couch is fine.”

Without much warning, his hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing her trapezius to show just how _fine_ it was. It was rock hard, and she winched at the pressure.

“Your point being?” She shook herself loose and started for the door again. With one leg, she didn’t make much progress before he grabbed her again. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

He smiled softly. “I know.” He pulled her back to the bed, made her plop down on the edge. “You’ve said it so often I’m starting to think you have issues.”

“Oh, I do.” She rubbed her face. “I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a crystal vase.”

He looked at her for a long time, seemingly lost in thought as his eyes bore into hers.

“Compromise.” He eventually offered, voice gruff. “We both take the bed. It’s big enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think so far :)


	30. More than anything

She squinted her eyes at him. “I’m not done being mad at you.”

He shed his shirt and took off his pants as he moved to the other side. “We have nowhere to be in the morning.” He slipped between the sheets. “I’m still angry because you nearly got yourself killed.”

She fell backwards against one of his pillows. “ _You_ were standing toe to toe with that guy.”

“I had a gun.” He pulled the blanket out from under her and draped it over them both.

“That would have mattered _nothing._ ” She stared at the ceiling, the potential outcomes flashing before her eyes. “Even if you had managed to kill him, he’d have crushed you under his weight.”

He hummed. “So you _lied_ to me.” He concluded, a smile in his voice.

She shrugged. “Well, not entirely.” She thought about it for a moment. “A bull can be heavy, but you would’ve survived until Nick and Hank found you, especially with your… Woge.”

“Sorry about that.” She could see him reach out to her, his hand stalling between them. “It can be scary.”

She chuckled, turning to look at him. “I once fought an actual bear. Trust me, nothing you do can scare me.”

There was a shuffle, and she felt a hand pin her wrists to the mattress as his body held her down. “Oh, _really?_ ” His voice was a playful rumble, his face inches from hers. His half-decayed mouth was smirking deviously. She copied it without a second thought, braced her feet and slid her hands down to grab his. As she pressed her body up, she twisted it and pushed with all her might, Woging fully for the first time in months. With the extra momentum, she flipped him easily, straddling him and smirking down at his trapped form.

“Really.” Her eyes gleamed down brightly at him for a moment before they both changed back.

“All right.” He panted slightly in surprise, “You win.”

She giggled softly and leaned forward a little to look at his face in the dark. “Don’t forget it.”

“I don’t think I ever will.” She could feel his chest expand beneath her. His eyes glimmered in the darkness.

Mesmerizing.

She leaned forward just a bit more, leaning her weight on their entwined hands, their sternums nearly touching.

He blinked. “Lex, I-” His voice was a whisper, barely more than a breath of air. She let out one of her own.

“I’m-”

He surged up, taking away her next breath as his lips touched her. Her eyes fluttered closed, the tension melting from her body. She nearly keeled over, overbalancing and breaking their contact as she landed on the mattress.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

“No, it’s-” she swallowed down the word. _Fine_ was in no way adequate to describe what was going on. She needed something bigger, something less ambiguous, something… “-good.”

He chuckled, his hands moving down to hug her. “Good?”

“Very good.” She decided, sliding down to press closer to him.

He tilted her face down to his. “Want to do it again?”

She smiled. “Why not?”

He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “So enthusiastic.” He chuckled at her light frown, then kissed that too. “I’m kidding. I know you’re-”

She leaned down and silenced him. “Good. I’m good. _We’re_ good.”

He chuckled, grabbed her tightly and rolled them so he was back on top. “We are.” He leaned down, kissed her, took her breath away as his hands traced her sides, slid up her back and rested on her shoulder blades, pressing her closer as he tried to taste the very core of her soul.

She let a moan slip out as he gave her room to breathe, his fingers digging into her back.

“You have a strange fascination with my shoulders.” She panted, surprised at her own eloquence. She wrapped her arms around him, clutching at his back as his fingers traced the edges of her bones.

He hummed. “I want to see them.” He stated, flattening his hands against her back.

She licked the crease between his neck and shoulder, and bit down at his groan. “Later.” She promised. Her hands darted over his bare back. “But for now, _this_ feels a bit unfair.”

He chuckled and slid her top up, hands caressing the skin they uncovered, lips finding hers again. “I agree.”

She giggled as he slipped the cotton over her head and tossed it aside. His eyes darted down, his confident smirk stalling as he took in the newly-revealed sight. “Lexie, you are-”

She bit her lip and looked away, her hand sneaking down to cover a scar right next to her navel.

“Hey.” He breathed, covering her hand with his own, pressed a kiss to her sternum. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled down at him, pulled his hand up to kiss it. “I know.”

He traced the scar. It was deep, pale and straight, like the cut of a knife. He pressed his lips to it. “Paris?”

She chuckled. “Appendectomy, actually.” She pulled him up, held his face and quirked a brow at him. “I kind of like it. People always ask stupid questions about it.”

He huffed a laugh and kissed her again. “I want to know about Paris, though.”

“Later.” She promised. “In the morning. But first-” She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him imperceivably closer. There was a distinct bump pressing against her abdomen, and she arched against it.

Sean stifled his groan by capturing her lips again, hands gripping her tightly, flipping them over with a thigh between her legs. “Yes.” He rumbled. “Let’s.” His hands moved down, played with the elastic band on her bottoms. “I want to-”

She pulled his mouth to hers again. “Yes.” She breathed against his lips, “ _Gods_ , yes.” She lifted her hips, grinding up to him, and he let out a guttural rumble, his hands hooking under the fabric and pulling it down in one pull, leaving it hanging from her ankle. She shook it off, linking her legs around him again. She broke the kiss to bite and suck at his shoulder. She could feel his breath stop for a moment.

Her hands slipped down to his boxers and under them, pulling them down as they went.

He pulled back a little. “Are you su-”

“For fu- _yes!_ ” She pulled him in, sunk her teeth into his shoulder. At his hiss, she kissed the pain away. “ _Yes,_ more than _anything._ ” She turned and pressed a wet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “ _Come on!_ ”

He chuckled, pressing closer to blanket her body. “Bossy.” He kissed her again. “I like it.”


	31. Morning

A single ray of sunlight shine through the split in the curtains, landing teasingly on her face, cruelly waking her from her slumber. She groaned at the invasion, curling up and pressing her face into the thick feathered pillow and pulling the blanket over her head.

_Wait._

She opened her eyes in the safety of the cocoon and frowned.

It hadn’t been a dream, then.

She reached out, searched the bed, but found nothing other than cold linen. The bed had been made around her, and when she dodged the light and sat up, she noticed a small stack of fresh clothes on the nightstand.

_Oh._

She took the top item from the stack and shook it out. It was one of Sean’s old t-shirts, one of the ones she’d stolen as a pajama within her first week of moving in. He hadn’t minded, and soon they had just started showing up between her clean laundry. She slipped it on with a sigh.

It was a classic situation. A made bed, fleeing in the morning… If she didn’t already squat in his apartment, he’d probably have kicked her out the evening before. The clothes were a kindness, a chance to become presentable before having to face a hard conversation. She could do hard conversations. She grew up on them, spent her childhood learning to deal with their consequences. It wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for, but she should’ve seen it coming.

She ignored the rest of the stack and got out of bed. Better to get this over with quickly, presentably or not. She’d have to get dressed again to move out, anyway. She wasn’t going to take his shirts.

The smell of coffee reached her half-panicked brain. At least he was providing some anchor to weather the coming storm. After another deep breath, she placed her hand on the doorknob.

 _Once more into the fray_. She smiled bitterly to herself.                                                                                             

She closed the door behind herself and silently padded over to the kitchen. Sean was there, _right there_ , facing away from her, frying something on the stove.

She had to say something, end the illusion. Stop the charade. Like a band-aid, rip it off quickly and cleanly.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t even _move_. Her body seemed frozen, her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. A deer in the headlights.

He seemed to finally sense she was there, quickly plating his food and turning to smile at her. “I didn’t-” His smile froze when he saw the look on her face. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” She couldn’t meet his eyes, biting her lip and staring at his feet instead. “I’m…fine.” She nodded to herself, trying to postpone the inevitable just a little longer.

He frowned. “No you’re not.” He stated. He took a few careful steps closer until he could rest his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, you can talk to me.”

She still avoided his gaze, but she had to meet it when he titled her head up. His eyes radiated kindness, and that something else that they always did in quiet moments like these. “I-” She didn’t know how to continue.

He leaned down, pressed the smallest of kisses to her lips.

“Excuse me?” She frowned.

He chuckled, then kissed her frown. “Okay.”

“I’m confused.” Despite herself, she placed her hands on his belt. “I thought…” She trailed off, not daring to finish the thought.

“Hm?” He looked at her again, kissed her nose. It was as if he couldn’t help himself.

She hugged him closer, closed her eyes as she buried her face in his chest. “You made the bed.” She could barely muster anything more than a mumble.

He rested his head on hers. “I’m… Sorry?” It was obviously not an apology.

She hung her head a little. “The bed was cold.” This wouldn’t do. She squared her shoulders and pushed him back a little, so she could glare up at him. “I know signals when I see them, but you’re sending _very_ mixed ones right now. Don’t sugarcoat it, Sean.”

He huffed, and a smile threatened to break through his serious façade. “I was making breakfast.” He explained. “I think we need to talk.” He backed them up closer to the counter.

“Well, _that_ eases my mind.” She didn’t stop glaring at him, but she softened it a bit, at least.

He chuckled. “I know.” He slid his hands to her waist, lifted her onto the counter with one easy movement. He had her trapped, now, his hands caging her in and her feet swaying far off the ground. At least they were closer to eye level, now. He smiled at her for a moment, that familiar glint shining in his eyes, before he chastely kissed her again.

She frowned. “Stop that.”

“Sorry.” He handed her one of the plates he’d prepared, and a fork. “You’re just…” He took a bite of his eggs to silence himself.

She took a bite from her toast. “Stop, _seriously_. I can’t- We need to have a serious conversation.” She huffed and poked her eggs. “At least there’s good food.”

He smiled softly. “This is going to be a lot better than you think.” He assured her. He leaned against the counter next to her. “Tell me what’s going on in there?”

She shook her head, took a deep breath. “I’m having a hard time right now, but-” She placed her plate next to her. “You weren’t there when I woke up. That sends a certain message.”

“I was making breakfast.” His smile grew a bit. “I was going to bring it to you. I didn’t expect you to wake up.”

“You didn’t-” She huffed in disbelief. “Sean, I run on pure stress and caffeine. I haven’t _slept in_ in years.”

“It wouldn’t be sleeping in.” He pointed out, pointing at her with his fork. “Last night was tiring.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.” There was the smallest hint of sunshine in her tone, though.

He chuckled. “I meant the stakeout.” He stood back a bit. “How’s your ankle?”

She rotated it slightly. “Good as new.”

He put down his plate. “Can I?”

She lifted her foot, and he turned it gently in his hands. “You nearly broke it yesterday.” He marveled.

She shrugged. “Honestly, that doesn’t matter.” She offered him a small smile. “Tell me if you have any strange pains, though.”

He stepped closer again, smirking, boxing her in. “I _do_ have an ache in my shoulder.”

“Really?” She lifted her hand, trailed it just above his shoulder. “Right… here?” She slammed her hand down with a smirk, right where she’d bitten down.

He hissed at the unexpected pain, rocked forward on his feet.

She stole a kiss.

He blinked.

“Promise me.” She managed, her hand on his neck holding him close, “This isn’t a one-time thing, is it?”

“No.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Not if I can help it.” Carefully he slid a hand around her waist. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you comfortable. I-”

_I care for you._

She shook the darkness from her eyes. “You’re forgiven.” She smiled. “We still need to talk, though.”


	32. Paris

They settled on the couch, her legs flung over his laps, his hand resting comfortably on her ankle. The plate with their breakfast was resting on her knee. She wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, though.

“You had questions.” She leaned against the back cushions. “Yesterday.”

“Yes.” He rubbed her ankle, took a bite of egg. “Even more, now.”

“What?” She smirked, teased the roomy collar of her shirt to slide off her shoulder. “Now you’re not distracted, you mean?”

He rolled his eyes. “ _Less_ distracted.” He corrected. He popped a piece of toast in her mouth.

She chewed. “Ask away.”

“You’re used to one-night stands.” He stated. The question was implied. _Why?_

“Yeah, well.” She sighed. “Relationships are nigh on impossible when your job is basically international motel hopping.” She could see the questions lingering in his eyes. “Darren and I would have Nights, usually the last evening we’d be in a town. You know, like a celebration. We’d find a decent bar, choose our victims, go back to their place, leave when we were done. Sometimes I’d be so tired I’d sleep over. I’d wake up to a note. ‘ _Sorry, had to work. Here’s a clean shirt, but not my phone number_ ’.”

He chuckled. “I’d give you mine, but…” He leaned over, pressed a kiss to her lips. Slipped a piece of egg into her mouth as he pulled away.

She frowned. “If you want me to eat, you can just ask me.”

“This is more fun.” He smirked, squeezed her ankle as he sat back. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes, pretending to think. “Four-ish, five months? How long has it been?”

He smiled at her, his eyes that soft glow that might’ve been caused by the late-morning light. “Nearly six, I think.”

“Time flies when you’re getting in trouble.” She smirked, moved so she could lay her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever lingered somewhere this long. Not since… Not since long before I joined Interpol.”

“Not since Paris?”

She let out a slow breath through her nose. “Probably.” She took another breath, preparing herself for the conversation ahead. “But I can’t remember how long Paris was. Darren would, I think, he was older.”

“So Darren was in Paris.” He put the plate of food down next to them and wrapped his free arm around her back. He was letting her talk, which she appreciated, but this whole thing would be easier if he asked her more.

“Darren brought me there.” She hid her face in his neck as she talked. “He got me out.”

“Out of what?” His hand rubbed small circles on her back.

“There used to be a temple in Paris.” She mused, ignoring the question. “Nearly smack-down in the middle, near that massive traffic thing where Avenue de la Grande Armée changes into Charles de Gaulle, south-east of Place de la Porte Mailot.”

He hummed, urging her to continue. She closed her eyes.

“The Priest there, his brother was a baker. Born and bred in Paris. He let us stay above his shop, taught me how to bake the good kind of bread. He had a little family, a girl about Darren’s age, a boy not much younger than I was. It seemed like the perfect place to stay, grow old. But my family…” She took a deep breath. “There’s this principle in one of the lawbooks we used to have back home. I think the terms translate to something like divine wrath. Probably comes from the Olden days, you know, you mess with the gods, they mess with you.”

He pressed his lips to her temple, a dry reassurance that he was there.

“The Parisian parishioners had wronged them.” Her voice turned cold as she continued. “Everyone. Just like that, they were- We could only get away because they fought. My family is a sadistic mess.”

He hummed. “So I’ve heard. I’m glad you didn’t inherit that.”

“Oh, I did.” She chuckled, trying to release some of the tension from the air. “You just haven’t given me a reason to show it, yet.” She sat up a bit to look at him. “Though I have a feeling I need to dust it off soon.”

He nodded, mostly letting go of her as he leaned back, sighing. “You mean my cousin.”

“We have to prepare for him.” She took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. “Create a strategy, a plan.”

He smiled at her. “You seem a lot calmer now than you were yesterday.”

“Trust me, I’m not. I mean, it’s-” She closed her eyes. “There’s a lot more at stake today than there was yesterday.”

“You don’t mean that.” He leaned forward to put the plate on the table, then met her eyes. “Nothing changed.”

“That’s…not entirely true.” She sniffed her shirt. “I smell more like you today. I can probably lower my doses, which would be good if our families are coming around, because I’ll need every single one of my capabilities at the ready. But on the other hand, if I do start smelling more like myself, or more like you, the Grimm might think something is wrong or that I’m getting more aggressive, just now as I’ve established a reasonable bond with him, and we can’t really afford to lose an ally-”

He kissed her.

She blinked at him.

He chuckled at her expression. “We’ll be fine.” He assured her. “Nick won’t kill you because you smell different, he has restraint.” He squeezed her shoulder briefly and swung her legs off his lap. “We can leave this until Monday, I had plans for this weekend.”

“Really?” She stretched and followed him with her eyes as he stood to clean up the plate. “Like what?”

“Well, I wanted to spend the morning in bed, but…” He smirked at her from the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes. “But I disappointed you by waking up like a reasonable person.”

“Reasonable people sleep for eight hours.”

“You were out of bed before me.” She stood and sauntered over to him, leaning against the counter as she watched him work. “It was kind of the basis of my morning panic. What about the afternoon?”

“I know a piece of forest no one ever visits, away from any hiking trails.”

She frowned. “You’ve lost me.”

He put the plate down to dry. “You promised I could see them. I want to see them in action.”

She huffed. “I wish it was that easy.” She hopped onto the counter. “There’s too much suppressants in my system, I can’t really change.”

“You Woged yesterday.” It wasn’t an accusation, she knew the tone of his implied questions.

She shrugged. “It was more like early this morning, and it was barely two seconds. I can’t hold it much longer.” She looked up at him apologetically. He moved closer to her, boxed her in with his arms.

“It’s all right.” He smiled at her. “I’m sure I can think of something else.”

“Really?” She laced her fingers together behind his neck. “Surprise me, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early chapter! I won't be able to post tomorrow, and I still have a bit of a back log, so I thought I'd share it earlier with you guys ^_^  
> Please let me know what you think so far! You can find me here, or on Twitter, Tumblr or Instagram as @BlazeRiddle


	33. Chapter 33

The heavy darkness was lifted with that creak that he’d started to dread. He tensed his body, his eyes screwed shut against the intrusive light. “I am Frederick Cooper Darren Duncombe-Aylesworth.” He started again, the mantra his only defense. “I am the luckiest of-“

“Ah, good.” The door closed with a bang. “So you’re the one I’m looking for.”

He opened his eyes, staring up at the blurry figure before him. “Who-?”

The man kneeled beside him, his hands reaching out to him. He rolled back, raising himself in defense. His arms were shaking beneath him.

“Answer me!” He growled, tired eyes squinting at the man. “Who are you?”

The man dropped his hand. “Miss Martin sent me.” He explained. “I’m taking you out of here.”

Darren sat up, relaxing a bit as he took in the unimpressive figure. “ _You_ ’re my rescue party?” He huffed. “Good to know she cares.”

“I’m the best she could get.” The man moved closer again, hands poking and prodding and roaming as he took his vitals. “She’s held up in Portland.”

“I wasn’t expecting _her_.” He swatted his hands away. “Just maybe… a Blutbat, or a Grimm, or a certain half-witch. Not a total stranger. She doesn’t do strangers.”

“I’m one of Renard’s acquaintances.” The man slipped his arm around Darren’s back. “You look terrible. Can you walk?”

“Probably.” He scuffled, managed to get his feet underneath himself, pushed himself up on shaking legs. The man supported his attempt, rising with him. “It’s been a while, though.” Once on his legs, he took a moment to stabilize. “What should I call you, mysterious savior? Do you have a name or do you just go by Charming?”

The man chuckled. “Hans Tavitian.” He introduced himself. “But Charming is good, Scruffy.”

Darren reached up and found his mop of dirty, unkept facial hair. From what he could feel, both his beard and his hair reached his shoulders, and everything was tangled into one big, dusty mess.

“Oh, _gods_.” He made a face. “I’m normal underneath this mess, I promise.”

Tavitian chuckled and shook his head, adjusting his grip as he braced himself to move.

Darren hissed, not able to suppress a flinch in pain.

 Tavitian moved his hand back up. “All right?”

“Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “Let’s get moving.” He took his first few steps, finding his balance as he moved to the heavy door.

Tavitian opened the door for them. “You’re a tough one.”

“It’s in my blood.” Despite everything, he managed a smirk. “Give me half a day, and I can punch a councilman in the face.”

“You won’t need to.” Tavitian led them out into the hallway. “They all left this morning, the only people left are the guards.”

Darren frowned at the implication. “Did you-”

“Bribed them.” Tavitian assured. “They’re all on a lunch break.”

“It’s lunch time?” Darren frowned. Everything was blurry, mixed into one big mess of darkness and pain. “What date is it?”

“We’ll get you up to speed once we’re out of here.” They started down the hall determinedly. “I only paid for an hour.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday morning came early, with Sean delivering actual breakfast in bed, and a big pot of coffee, just before dawn. She yawned and groaned at the sight of his smile, sitting up.

“Is this how you’re going to wake me now?” She asked, “Because I have some objections.”

He chuckled and placed the tray over her legs. “No, this is a celebration.” He got back into bed. “I wanted to talk to you properly before we head off.”

“Celebration? For what?” She frowned at him, “About what? You confuse me, it’s too early.”

He leaned over, a fake sappy smile on his face. “Happy two-day-a- versary.”

“ _No_.” She glared at him. “Don’t do that. If you ever actually do that, I will kill you.”

“Noted.” He produced a slip of paper and showed her. “This arrived this night. It’s a bit delayed, but Tavitian found where they’re holding Darren. He’s going to execute a rescue operation.”

She froze, hand halfway to the paper. “Rescue operation.” She repeated.

He smirked at her, waiting for the coin to drop. “Yeah.”

“But that means…” She blinked. “He’s coming back.”

“Yes.” He took a piece of bread from the tray. “He might already be on his way.”

“He’s coming home.” She couldn’t stop the face-splitting smile from breaking through. “Sean, he’s-”

“I know.” He smiled along with her, raised his bread. “A toast, then?”

She giggled, took a slice from the tray, and touched it to his. “A toast. To a safe return of a friend, one from each of us.”

He nodded. “To a safe return.” He didn’t comment on the _friend_ part.

She slowly chewed on the dry bread. “We still need to have two conversations.” She tried not to sound solemn. “Serious ones. Which one do you want first?”

He huffed, stabilizing the tray with one hand as he pulled her closer with the other, tucking her under his arm to keep her in place. “We need allies.” He repeated her previous statement. “Your family will probably track Darren back here.”

“Without a doubt.” She closed her eyes, focusing on his heartbeat thumping through her skull. Strong, regular. Comforting, more so than the words she knew he’d speak next.

“Nick has become a very strong presence in the city.” He started. “The local council will never say it, but they respect him.”

She hummed. “As does the international one, I’ve heard. But-” She tried to sit up, but he held her pressed against him. She knew why, of course. They’d talked about it.

Pheromones.

She looked down at his hands, instead. “I don’t really want to involve him. I _really_ don’t.” She felt her heartbeat synchronize with his.

“You don’t have to tell him anything.” Sean pressed a mug of coffee into her hands. “We can work around it.”

“He’s already suspicious.” She reasoned, her eyes falling closed again as she sipped the drink. “And he’s a detective. There’s not much we can hide from him, I think.”

“We can try.” He took his own cup, using the moment as an excuse to think. “We can tell him some things, leave out most of it. We can construct a story he’ll believe.” He smiled down at her, pressing her into his side. “I’m a detective, too.”

She chuckled. “Even better, you’re a captain.” She slipped her free arm around his back. “We need to think of something soon, though, if I become more... me, because he’ll know something is wrong.”

“You really want to stop the suppressants?”

“Why not?” She tilted her head rested it on his peck to look up at him. “It might be good. I need my strength, and my scent is messed up, now, anyway. I can lower them, at the very least. It might be good to have a plan for Nick, first, though.”

“I suggest we wait.” He emptied his mug in one big glug. “We bide our time, create a good backstory for Alexa Martín.”

“Yeah, we should-” She froze suddenly, the implication of his words hitting her like a brick wall. Alexae Martín was just a character, a façade, a few scribbles on a piece of paper. It was a cloak, a mask, a means to stay in the shadows. It was nothing more than a mirage, a-

He took the tilting mug from her still hands, placing it on the tray. “Where’d you go?” He entwined their hands, giving her an anchor to reality.

“Nothing.” She blinked. “I just realized you don’t know my name. I’m not Alxae, I’m not-”

He huffed a gentle smile. “I know.” His fingers brushed her face as a flutter of a distant memory breezed through her head. “I was there.” He put his own coffee, leaned over, enveloped her in his warmth as he whispered her secrets in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Please let me now what you thought ^_^


	34. Come Monday

“Nick wants to see you.” Sean squinted down at the bright light of his phone. “In the spice shop.”

“Well, that’s promising.” She stretched and grabbed for her discarded shirt on the floor. “He’s found something, then. What’s our story?”

“You’re a human.” He reminded her. “But you grew up amongst Thebans.”

“Right.” She hung her upper body from the bed, searching for the rest of her clothes. “That’s why I know so much. And Darren protects me because I’m useless.” She put her undergarments in place as she talked, pulling her shirt down over it.

“But why is your family after you now?” Sean followed her example, quickly collecting his clothes.

“We… betrayed them.” She hid her thoughtful pause with a sad face. “It’s a difficult story. I’d rather not get into it.”

“I’m going to press you about it, though.” Sean pocketed his phone and put on his watch. “I _am_ a detective.”

“We were foolish.” She let her eyes cloud over, felt her shoulders slump a bit. “We were young, reckless. We were sent on a mission to help out the people in Paris.” As she spoke, the words began to feel foreign in her mouth, her natural accent making an unfortunate return. “It was supposed to be a simple task, something to prepare us for the real work. But…” She let out a shivering sigh. “…We made some very powerful enemies, and we underestimated what they were capable of. Twenty people died.”

A shadow fell over her, and when she looked up, he was standing in front of her with sad eyes. “Is that what happened?”

“Nah.” She reassured him with a smile. “But it’s sad enough that they won’t ask for more, no?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You devious _witch_.”

“No, that would be you.” She grinned at him and held out her hands to be pulled up. “I’m just evil.”

“Well.” He pulled her up and pressed his lips to her nose. “You’re not _that_ evil.”

“You have no idea.” She grinned up at him, then frowned. “We still need to talk.”

He nodded, stepped back to give her the space she needed to think. “What’s on your mind?”

“What-” She closed her eyes, trying to put her words in a coherent order. “I mean, I know what we are, now, I’m starting to wrap my head around it. But-” She took a deep breath, avoiding looking at him as best as she could. “What about the rest of the world? What will we tell them? I mean, I know fraternizing is frowned upon here, but technically we’re from different agencies, but it’s probably a bad idea to focus more attention to ourselves, and there’s no telling how anyone would react, not to mention the-” She suddenly stopped, her wide eyes shooting up to meet his. “I need to tell you something.”

He nodded, waited patiently for her to continue.

She spread her fingers across his chest, looked at her hands as she felt the beat through the cotton. “I can’t date you.”

He placed his hands over hers. ”Are you breaking up with me?” He tried to lighten the mood.

She smiled. “Maybe.” Her fingers twitched. “I don’t want to cause more hurt than I have to.”

“You won’t.” He dipped a little bit, meeting her gaze. “We can figure something out. We can keep our private lives in here and keep everything out there as it was.”

“All right.” She freed her hands, purposely stepped back from him. “Let’s do that, then.”

He chuckled, pulled her into a hug. “We can figure this out, Lexie.”

She relaxed. “I know.”

“We should probably go see Nick.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I know.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The spice shop was closed, the curtain on the little door window drawn down. She resisted knocking, glancing at her friend for before she pressed open the door and slipped inside. The shop was empty, her ears perking up in the silence. After she let Sean in behind her, she turned the lock as she shut the door. It would be good to have the advantage. They had to talk, and if anyone tried to get out halfway through some big revelations, she could use the extra seconds to tackle them to the ground.

On second thought, she unlocked the door, opened it far enough to ring the little bell above it, and locked it again. Sneaking in was suspicious.

Sean studied her motions with a hint of a smile. “Prêt?”

“Prêt.” She took a deep breath. “Allez, let’s get this over with.”

“We’re in here.” Nick’s voice sounded from the back room, Monroe's head poking out from the back room with a wry smile. As they made their way over, he gestured to a chair.

“Might want to sit down for this one.”

She glanced at the chair, then at the way Nick was standing in the middle of the room, flanked by Hank as if they were making a house call. “I’ll manage.” She copied their body language and crossed her arms. “What is it?”

Nick’s eyes darkened as they darted to her leg and back to her face. “Turns out that Dragon Cult was part of a large Wesen religion.” He glared at her. “And the temple we were the other day is, as well.”

She swallowed, trying to still the beating of her heart before Monroe caught on. “Okay.”

“They worship creatures called Thebans that they think can see through time.”

“Right.” She could feel Sean move closer to her back.

“And these Thebans are protected by the Serpentis, some sort of dragon Wesen.”

“Yes.” She looked at him blankly.

“You knew all this.” It was an accusation. Nick stepped closer, his accusing hand nearly poking her in the chest. “Why was Darren protecting you?”

“ _Is_.” She corrected, stepping away from his arm. “He _is_ protecting me, and I can explain.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “ _Talk_.”

She tilted her head a bit, searching his face. “Breathe and sit down, Burkhardt, your Grimm is showing.” She pushed the chair towards him and looked around the room, noting the other dark faces in the room. It seemed to be two against four. Her story needed to be good, or she’d lose too many allies.

Well, luckily she practiced on her way over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy...  
> Thank you for reading! I hope you like it so far :)  
> Please let me know what you think!  
> (Prêt? means Ready?)


	35. the Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realised this week that the height difference between Alexae and Sean would be roughly a foot... enjoy that thought.

“I’m an orphan.” She started when Nick had sat down. “The… Thebans back in Europe took me in when I was a baby. Darren was… assigned to me when I got older. I’d gotten into trouble one too many times.”

Hank chuckled. “He’s your _babysitter._ ” Her surmised.

She glared at him. “He’s my friend.” She didn’t deny it, though. “My… Theban-assigned mandatory friend.” She turned to Nick. “I’m sorry. I’m not… I’m not one of them. But there’s an oath, and the risk of you finding out was too big.”

Nick’s eyes softened. “I wouldn’t-”

“I know now.” She assured him. “But I didn’t know you, and you were about to book my _babysitter_ for murder. You don’t exactly trust me, either.”

“Why didn’t you explain things earlier?” Hank questioned. “The Cult, the Temple, there were plenty of opportunities.”

“Were there?” She questioned him. “I have the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t’ve believed my story of a secret, world-encompassing religion-like group that worships-” She stilled, turning to the man standing firm behind her, “What’s a… Deviner? Haruspicem?”

“Fortune tellers.” Sean provided.

“Right.” She turned to the others. “That. A world-wide group that worships fortune tellers.”

“But you’re Wesen.” Rosalee spoke up from her corner of the room. She conjured a handful of the familiar pills from her pocket. “We managed to recreate your recipe. These are suppressants.”

Alexae frowned. “How did-” Something dawned on her. “Did you test those on _yourself_?” She demanded, nearly shouting. When Rosalee stayed silent, she resisted the urge to perform the Heimlich or, even worse, punch the woman in the stomach to get the drugs back out. “Rosalee, do you have _any idea_ how dangerous those are?! If you overdose-”

A hand squeezed her shoulder, reminding her silently to stay calm, and she took a deep breath. “How many did you take?”

She shrugged. “I had one, Monroe two. We couldn’t Woge for a full day.” At Alex’s narrowed eyes, she continued, “It was two weeks ago. We’re fine now.”

Alexae nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Good.”

“You take at least three of those pills a day.” Hank noted, ignoring her attempts to steer the subject in a different direction. “If you’re so worried for an overdose-”

“ _I’m not a Wesen_.” She sneered, at the group in general. “If you could _stop_ looking into everything and _let me talk_ for a moment, I can explain.” She took a deep breath, calming herself. It didn’t slip by her how both Nick and Hank both unconsciously moved their hands to their hips. They probably weren’t carrying, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

She sighed. “They _are_ against nausea.” She explained, “Darren used to take them when we were younger. I was having a really bad case of travel sickness one day, and they were the only thing we had with us. Turns out, they work really well. I never went back to regular stuff.”

Monroe looked from her to the pills and back. “You… _deliberately_ take dangerous medication that you could easily overdose on and you don’t want us to take, just for nausea?”

“Well, it’s dangerous to _you_.” She shrugged. “You could actually get stuck not being able to Woge for gods know how long. I can’t, anyway.”

Monroe narrowed his eyes at her. “You- _you could die!_ ”

“I could die crossing the road, as well. Especially in your country.” She offered him a playful smile. “Or I could be mistaken for wildlife and taken down by a hunter, or shot by Sean’s family, or killed by a rogue Grimm, be taken out by some bears, or cougars, or _wolves-_ ”

“Sean’s family?” Nick interjected, realizing she’d be going on for a while. Alexae blanked, realizing it might not have been the best way to breach the subject.

“Yeah.” She said, looking down as if she’d been caught in something. “Yeah, they… probably don’t like me. We have reason to believe that they… that _someone_ is coming to collect me. Take me back to Europe.”

“Back home?” Monroe frowned, “That’s not bad, is it?”

She met his questioning gaze, wondering why someone who knew _so much_ about the community and their ways could be so _stupid_. “These are people whose _followers_ kill without prompting. If they find me, they will burn half the city getting me out. But sure, I’ll be going _home_ , so it’s not that bad.”

Monroe narrowed his eyes at her.

Sean’s hand landed on her shoulder, a warning presence.

“Why would they be after you?” Nick asked, studying her for any hints of a lie. He wouldn’t catch her on any, though.

“I might not look it,” She quirked her brow, “But I know a lot. They want to get me back before I… tattle.”

Nick glanced at the man behind her, at the hand on her shoulder. “They’re a little late for that.”

“Not really.” She shook off the hand. “But if you think that, they will, too. And if they find out what _you_ are…” She sighed. “They’re not exactly fans.”

“ _Nemesis._ ” Rosalee stated, and Alex nodded. The others just seemed confused.

“There’s this old folk tale.” Alexae explained. “About how the Thebans are the natural nemeses of the Grimm. It’s a standard tale, light and darkness, good and evil, protector and hunter, that kind of thing. It’s just a fairy tale, but the kind of fairy tale that people believe.”

“And the Grimm is the bad guy?” Nick asked, knowing the answer already.

She smirked at him. “Aren’t you always?” She turned serious. “I’m already a deserter, if they find out I’m with the supposed _evil of the world…_ ” She shook her head. ”They won’t be happy. They might… Well. Kill everyone. There’s a chance they already know where I am. If they’re already on their way…”

“They’ll be here soon, and Alex won’t be able to take them on alone.”

“Well…” She smirked at him over her shoulder. “Not without making a mess, anyway. And not without some illegal firearms.”

“Knife throwing not good enough anymore?” Hank asked. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about that evening, yet.

“So you figured that out.” She told him blankly. “You should be a detective.” She thought for a moment. “Considering that they’ll probably bring an army, knives won’t work unless I could put them in some sort of launching device. Or maybe strap them to the end of it.”

“Where did you get a knife from?”

Alex frowned at him. “Imminent war, Hank. Possible destruction of a city. Devastation of millions of lives. Not the time for questions like that.”

“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” Hank frowned at her. “It won’t be _good_ , but-”

“They will destroy everything in their path to get to what they want.” She assured him grimly. “I’ve seen it before. I will probably see it again. I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen _here_.”

“It’s not going to happen again.” Sean growled behind her. “ _At all._ ”

“Well.” She sighed deeply. “I doubt it. J’espère que tu as raison.”

“Of course I do.” His hand slipped back onto her shoulder, guiding her to the still empty chair. “But they- _we’ll_ need more than what you’ve given us to help you.”

They’d talked about this. She didn’t want to, but he’d insisted. She just had to push through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J’espère que tu as raison = I hope you're right
> 
> Please let me know what you think! ^_^  
> You can find me on Twitter, facebook and Tumblr as @BlazeRiddle


	36. Lunch

“I’m coming with you.” She powered off her laptop as he came out of his office for lunch. Sean turned to her as he straightened out the lapels of his coat.

“You sure?” He asked, “You did kick the guy in the face. I don’t think he likes you.”

“That’s why I’m coming.” She shrugged on her leather jacket. “I don’t trust him. I need to know why he’s here.”

“I could just tell you.” He suggested. “After.”

“This is work, right?” She followed him out, falling in stride behind him. “Well, I’m coming with you, _partner_.”

He rolled his eyes and held open the elevator for her. “When aren’t you?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant was small, cramped with tables, and nearly deserted. The only people there were the prince and his security details, and as they entered, she almost asked how much it had cost.

Almost.

“Oh.” The prince drawled as soon as he noticed her. “You brought _her_.”

“Yes, well.” She stepped away from behind her partner. “ _She_ figured Captain Renard could use some security detail of his own.” She held out her hand to shake. “Alex Martin, Interpol.”

He froze as she announced her title, hand in mid-air. He dropped it. “Pleasure.”

“Oh, trust me.” She flexed her leg muscle. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Sean guided her to a table, where the bodyguards from that morning were already seated, and pulled out a chair for her.

The royal narrowed his eyes at it. “Can’t the woman do anything herself?”

She seated herself, ignoring the comment. “I apologize, I didn’t catch your name.”

The royal straightened his tie. “Prince Victor Coch-”

“Victor.” She nodded. “Very well. Why are you in Portland, Victor?”

He seemed annoyed by her already. He turned to Sean. “There are some interesting rumors going around.” He stated. Sean tilted his head, seeming interested.

“Apparently, those Seer idiots are heading this way on some sort of man hunt.” He pulled a disgusted face. “Portland is going to hell.”

Sean placed a warning hand on her knee the moment he said Seer. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

The royal sighed. “First the Grimm, now this. We leave you alone out here, Sean, but there are certain expectations to be met.”

She moved, casually letting his hand slip off her leg, and listened intently. He was here for the Seers.

Sean crossed his arms. “What did you hear?”

“There was a Serpentis here.” The prince growled. “A Dragon cult attacked a family. Our contacts within the Seer community say that some influential people are headed in this direction.” He glanced at Alexae. “Is it safe to talk to this in front of her?”

Sean glanced at her, briefly. “Yes.” His tone was flat, honest. Sure.

Alexae decided to stay silent.

“The Serpentis killed four people.” Victor stated flatly. “You don’t have a grip on it.”

“The Serpentis is not a problem anymore.” Sean assured him. “He went back to Europe.”

The prince looked surprised. “You met him?”

“Of course.” The captain quirked a brow. “I arrested him for murdering four people.”

She felt a surge of pride, but she wasn’t sure for whom or what.

“Who was he with?” The prince pressed. “Who was his charge?”

Sean hesitated. They hadn’t discussed this. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.” The royal seemed to get worked up. “Were they Theban?”

“I didn’t ask.” Whether he meant to or not, Sean inched closer to her just a tiny bit. “I didn’t meet whoever the Serpentis was guarding.”

Victor huffed. “So they could still be here.” He frowned. “You’re losing control, cousin, and I’m sure your father-”

“You’re not exactly one to talk about family values, _Victor_.” Alexae leaned her elbows on the table, staring him down. “I can produce _several_ stories of you disappointing _his_ father.” She hissed the last part, fed up with the pompous _dick_.

Victor looked between the two. “I was wrong about you.” He smirked smugly. “You’re a Pitbull.”

“You’re stealing my allegory.”

He leaned back. “Where did you find this one, Sean? I like her.” His smirk nearly turned feral. “A feisty lapdog.”

Sean moved a bit, pulled his gun from its holster. Placed it between them, barrel facing away. “A lapdog that could kill you.”

Alexae eyed the gun, pocketed it. “I don’t need that to do it, either.” Subtly, her hand rested on Truth, well-hidden at her side. “I have other means. Let’s hope I’ll never have to use them.”

 Victor rolled his eyes. “For _my_ sake.” He drawled. “Do you know what would happen if you’d kill me?”

“I’d get heralded a hero?” Her dangerous smirk had sent a cold shiver down the spine of much bolder men, and she could see his bravado waver a bit.

Her phone started buzzing in her pocket.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” She stood and answered it, and as she walked away, she could hear the conversation continue without her. The voice talking in her ear, though, required much more of her attention.

“The Grimm is here.” Peter hissed in her ear, as if he was hiding somewhere. “He wants to see all of our documents. What should we do?”

Alexae frowned to herself, wondering what could have happened to bring Nick there. _Something is wrong_. “Can you give him what he wants?”

“No!” She could sense him looking around after his outburst, then hear him take a deep breath. “The Librarian still has stuff back here.” He explained. “Translated texts.” There was a pause. “ _Letters._ ”

Alexae suppressed her gasp. “Stall.” She instructed. “Ask for warrants. Give them the foreign stuff first. Let them call in reinforcements, don’t make them leave with _anything_. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay. Truly, your divi-”

“Don’t even start.” She interrupted. “See you soon.”

“Okay.” He hung up, and she held her phone at her ear a moment longer, considering what to do next. A snippet of the conversation behind her drifted into her consciousness.

“…Could still be mine. We have to find her.”

“Even if I did know, I’d never let you touch-“

 _Diana_. She tuned out the rest of the conversation as she considered her options. She could call Nick, tell her she’d been tipped off, but that would be… suspicious. She had to cut this meeting short, and soon, and get them back to the temple.

Looking defeated, she walked back to the table and slumped in her chair.

Sean glanced at her, obviously concerned. “All right?” He rumbled, sadly not low enough for no one else to hear.

She nodded. “Yeah, just…” She rubbed her face and sat up a bit. “Family stuff. Where were we?”

Sean eyed her again, suspicious. “Leaving.” He’d taken the hint, at least. “This conversation is over.”

“No!” Victor surged up in anger as they stood to leave. “This isn’t over! Will you just let your city go to ruins?!”

Sean had already turned away from his cousin. “If the choice is between you and the Thebans, cousin,” Alexae could see his smirk, well-hidden from the others in the room, “I’d gladly have a Priest bring me to my knees.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I have such a massive buffer, I can't even keep track of what chapters I'm uploading... Thank goodness for the search option in Word.  
> Please let me know what you think! You can find me as @BlazeRiddle on Tumblr and Twitter :)


	37. Closing in

The bloody fangs of Fate were nearing his neck, he could sense it. He’d been forced to hide, and

here, in the damp room, by the shivering illumination of a stolen candle, he prayed to every god he’d heard of that he could just finish his work. He was so close. With shaking fingers, he tied together a small collection of his work, everything anyone would need to know to understand. He slipped an empty envelope on top as a placeholder and started what hopefully would be his second-to-last work. With a now-steady hand, he inked the paper.

_To Nicholas Burkhardt, The Grimm of Portland_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

She let herself sag into the familiarity of her seat in his car. “What did you talk about?” She closed her eyes for a moment, relieved to be safe and out of the restaurant.

He took her hand, and she felt the connection surge through her. The conversation floated through her brain, not quite landing yet. “Diana.” He took a breath. “He thinks they could still be near.” He studied the back of her hand. “I can’t let them get her.”

“Of course.” She flexed her fingers. “We’ll make sure that never happens. She’s safe.”

He smiled at that, that glean back in his eye. This time, he acted on it.

“You’re amazing.” He whispered against her cheek. The soft brush of his lips warmed her cheeks.

“I know.” She shook him off, smiling. “I’m marvelous.” She turned serious. “Peter called. We need to get to the temple.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.” Sean started his engines.

“I don’t.” She sighed. “But Nick’s there, tearing the place apart, and I don’t want him to find anything before we do.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why they’re there. Something must’ve happened.”

“Any idea what?” Sean reached out again, trying to comfort her. He could feel _it_ starting to bubble beneath the surface, more prominent now she was lowering her suppressants. Always there, always looming. He was slowly starting to understand why she relied so heavily on the pills.

“I-” She wrecked her brain. “No. I have no idea. Maybe they wanted to learn more about… everything, but it doesn’t make sense to go there in an official capacity. He has no right to search the temple.”

“Unless he has a warrant.” He laced their fingers together.

She studied him for a long moment. “Would you do it? Break down everything just to get to know a bit more?”

“Never.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her wrist. “I got you.”

She huffed a laugh. “I’m not an encyclopedia, despite the evidence to the contrary.”

He let go of her hand to steer around a corner and glanced at her as he straightened the car. “You’re the closest thing, though.”

She huffed, ignored the implications that were hidden in there, somewhere. “Are you all right?” She could feel the conversation still bouncing around in her head. “Do we need to talk about… what just happened?” She asked tentatively, “With Victor?”

“I’m fine.” He assured her. “I’m good.” He paused for a moment. “If he ever touches you, I will rip his hand off before you can draw your knife.”

“Oh, he made comments, did he?” She smirked at him. “You think you can be faster than the Truth?”

He chuckled. “No, I think I’m faster than _your_ Truth.” He turned up onto the parking lot of the Temple and turned off the engine.

She stopped him as he tried to get out. “Hold on.” She leaned over, slipped her hand under his jacket. Breathed in his air as she slipped his gun back in place. “You might need this.”

He tilted his head up, pressed their lips together briefly. His windows weren’t blinded. “Thank you.”

She smirked, slid off him and exited the car from the driver’s side. “I could _so_ beat you to the punch. _Any_ punch.”

He followed her out. “En public, oui.” He grumbled, “Mais-”

“Don’t even start.” She turned to show him she was rolling her eyes. She was still cheery, but she could already feel the weight of the temple settle around her shoulders, the severeness of the oak doors and marble altar already taking its toll.

Sean held the first door open to her. There was a suspicious lack of officers outside and in the hall, and she took the quiet to take a deep breath.

Sean took the time to find her a scarf.

“You’ll get through this.” He draped the scarf over her head. “We’re here voluntarily, and we can leave at any time. You just have to say the word.”

“Got it.” She checked herself in the mirror and straightened the fabric a bit. Another deep breath. “Just say the word.”

“I’m not leaving your side.” He promised, guiding her to the oak doors with a hand between her shoulder blades.

It was easier, this time.

There was a commotion near one of the back curtains, the one that lead to the Priest’s offices. Peter was standing near it, the curtain folded away to show the open doorway, looking very angry. Nick was standing near him, staring him down.

“You _will not_ take our papers!” Peter nearly shouted, his voice carrying through the room. “Those are _sacred texts_ , they _will not_ leave this building!”

Well, here we go. She took a deep breath. “He’s right, you know.” She commented, before Nick could say anything. “You’re not taking anything from here.”

Nick turned, his face clearing slightly as he spotted them. “Why are you here?” He asked, before anything else, “We didn’t call you.”

“He did.” She unapologetically pointed at Peter. “He told me you were trying to steal his books.”

“We have a warrant.” He held up an official-looking paper.

She hummed. “I don’t really care.” She moved along the perimeter of the room, bypassing the altar completely. “This is a place of worship, you can’t just come here and wreak havoc.” She vaulted a row of pews to reach them.

Behind her, the Captain took the long way around.

“Why are you here?” She asked, looking Nick up and down. “Where’s Hank?”

“Back room.” Nick handed her the paper. “After that Dragon Cult case we flagged some last names you pulled from the files. We got a hit this morning.” He pulled out his notebook. “A Kendrick Bernard. Ring any bells?”

She narrowed her gaze. _K_. “No, not directly. Kendrick…” She thought for a moment. “Means great champion, brave as a lion. Why are we here, though?”

“We think he’s hiding here, somewhere.” He gestured around him. “He wasn’t at his apartment, but we found notes leading back here. He may have fled.”

She rubbed her face. “ _Please_ tell me that was legal as well.” Her hand moved from her face, to her neck, to her shoulder, where she could feel the shadows of reality pull her down. “What did you find?”

Nick shrugged. “Papers, notes, most of them just scribbles.”

“Laptops?” She quickly ran a mental checklist, “Phones, chargers, tablets, stuff like that?”

He shook his head. “We think he took them with him.”

“Did you check the drawers? Any electronics there?”

He shook his head cautiously. Something dawned on her.

“How many clothes were in the hamper?”

“None.” Nick understood as well. “He didn’t flee.”

“No.” She looked around. “Search all the books you like, but you won’t find him here. People who plan to disappear find better places to hide.”

Nick looked around the temple. She was right, of course, but this was his one chance. He would turn this temple inside-out if it meant finding out more about the enigma that had walked into his city only months ago. Even if it meant breaking down the building brick by brick.


	38. Back in the Temple

“Could it be him?” Sean asked her, quietly, when Nick had moved to one of the back rooms. They had elected to stay around, sitting on one of the back pews and surveying the situation. She had no doubt Nick and Hank would be back soon, asking her to translate some texts. She wasn’t sure what to do then.

“I don’t know.” She watched as Peter came their way. “Maybe. I doubt it’s his real name, though.”

“I know.” Sean looked up at the priest as he neared them.

“I’m so sorry.” Peter bowed subtly in way of greeting. “They showed me a photo of this… Kendrick. It’s the Librarian.”

She took a deep breath. “I figured as much.” She nodded. “Do you still have the photo?”

He shook his head. “The Grimm has it.” He shrugged. “But you can probably ask him, he likes you, your div- high- graciousness.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How about _just Alex_. And I doubt it. He doesn’t trust me.”

“But he likes you.” Peter assured her. “Who wouldn’t?”

Sean chuckled. “ _I_ like you.” He stated.

She rolled her eyes. _You don’t like me,_ she nearly said _, You like like me._ But of course, that would be a death sentence.

“See?” Peter gestured, “The Zauberbiest likes you. He’s practically your enemy.”

“Oh, no, he’s totally my enemy.” She smirked up at the priest. “Fully, entirely. Don’t you sense the animosity brewing just under the surface?”

Peter’s face fell. “This is no time for jokes.” He told her gruffly. “The Librarian was always very careful. If he’s been discovered, I fear for his safety.”

She nodded glumly, serious now. “I know Peter. I… I feel it too.” She frowned, thinking for a moment. “Something will happen, soon.” Her eyes darted over the hall, then landed back on the priest’s face. “Will you do something for me, Father?”

He nodded eagerly. “Anything. Anything for you, _Alex._ ”

Sean nearly choked at the reverence with which he spoke the name.

“Pack a bag.” She ordered him. “As soon as we leave, go to your chambers and pack a bag for you and your wife. Anything you might need for…” She made some quick calculations. “At least a month. Put them in the back of your closet, have them ready. I will let you know when you’ll need them.”

Peter stood baffled. “You want me to _run_?” He asked, lowering his voice at her panicked look. “Leave my parishioners behind? Alone, in danger?”

“Not alone.” She assured him. “I’ll be here, as will my… Guardian, soon. Your people will be safe.”

He paused for a moment. “Can you promise?”

“The future is uncertain, Father.” She stated blankly. “I can’t promise every one of your flock stays unharmed. But I shall endeavor to try.”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied. “That’s all I can ask.”

There was a thump, and they looked up just in time to see how Hank had walked into a doorpost with a stack of books, making the top one fall to the ground.

Peter made a pained sound, and Alex could just suppress one. “Is that-”

“That’s an _original_!” Peter gasped, stared at where the book lay crumpled on the ground, but seemed to be rooted to the spot. Hank tried to pick it back up, but it quickly became clear that he wouldn’t be able to without dropping the rest of the old-looking books.

“Oh, for-” She stood and marched over to him, taking half his books and picking the fallen one in one smooth movement. She balanced the books at her side easily, glaring at him. “Try not to drop priceless artifacts next time.” She scanned the covers of the books, recognized some of them. “Why are you logging around heavy scripts you can’t read?”

“They’re for you.” He dropped his stack on a pew. “Nick thinks they’re important. Some have pictures.”

“Oh, joy of joys.” She opened the top one, looked at the title page. “ _Pictures._ ”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“What about this one?” Nick held out a relatively new-looking, nearly featureless read-leather book. Alexae had refused to translate all but the bare minimum of texts, because old texts like that shouldn’t be butchered by haphazard work or something like that, and he’d been trying to convince her to translate at least _one_.

His mission to know more was getting complicated now nothing was in English.

Alexae was having fun, he could tell. She’d make up the most outrageous stories about the books, pretending to translate them, or just declare them _boring_ before even opening them. It was as if she’d read, and memorized, the entire collection. Now, though, the moment her eyes fell on the red book, her face fell. A look of _something_ flashed by before her entire posture became carefully blank. Nick narrowed his eyes at her. Fear? He wondered. In that split second, she had looked as if she was going to be sick.

“I’m not reading that one.” It was serious, this time, no hint of a joke in sight. Behind her, the Captain sat up, moving just slightly closer.

“Why not?” Nick studied her closely.

She shrugged. “Because it won’t be interesting.” She explained. “It’s just a…” She searched for the English word. “Maternity book, or something. When a baby is born, people from the community write messages in it, and they gift it to the child as a memory.”

“If it’s just a baby book, why is it here?” Hank asked, taking the book and looking at its cover. “Doesn’t look special.”

“Sometimes important people have important babies.” She stated. “When that happens, people want to say things, sometimes, the people saying things are so special that people make copies.”

“Right.” Hank leafed through the book. “That _does_ sound interesting.” He frowned, showed a page. “It’s foreign.”

“Yes.” She glanced at it, not really looking. “And encrypted.”

“Can you-”

“No.”

“Why-”

“ _Boring_.” She suddenly lurched up, brushed past everyone and started for the oak doors. “Come on, Cap, you’re my ride. I’m out of here.”

Only when the doors slammed behind the Captain did Hank realize she’d switched out the books.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“You might want to step on it.” She freed the book from under her jacket. “Before they come outside to chase me.”

“Did you-” Sean frowned at her, then a smirk broke through. “You did.”

“Yeah.” She smirked back as they drove off. “I stole a priceless artefact. From a police officer.” She paused for a moment. “And you’re helping me escape.” She let out a happy giggle. “Why are you helping me escape?”

He chuckled along with her happiness. “It’s just a book.” He steered towards his apartment. “On our way over here I told you I’d murder for you.”

“Well, you said you’d grossly mutilate your cousin.” She stroked the cover. “Not quite the same. Close, though.”

“Right.” He glanced at the cover. “So is it encrypted?”

“They all are.” She opened the first page and showed him the mess of runes and scribbles. “The red isn’t just a decoration; it signifies importance. Anything red has near-unbreakable cyphers.”

“But you know how to break them.”

“Are you kidding me?” She smirked at him again. “I helped design them, way back when. The trick is to use more than one text. And more than one cypher.” She looked down at the mess on the page. “It might take me a while, though.”

“You’ll get it.” His hand landed on her knee. “If anyone can get it, it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super-early update time! I'll be travelling this week, and dealing with jetlags and all that stuff, so I don't know what the rest of my time looks like. Also, I've decided not to bother about the chapter titles too much anymore. I'll be going back through them once everything is finished, anyway.


	39. Baby Books

“Where to now?” Darren asked, bending over awkwardly to pick up his bag while giving his splint enough room. They’d already been in the cabin for too long, and though Hans insisted he needed more rest, Darren had decided to move on. They needed to get away before someone caught up to them.

“South, first.” Tavitian decided. “They’re expecting us to go to Amsterdam or London, because of your contacts there. They’ll never expect us to go south.”

Darren frowned. “And from there? Italy is a peninsula, we’ll be stuck.”

“Ah, but we won’t.” Tavitian smirked at him, slammed him on the shoulder as he went to open the door for him. “My good friend, boats exist.” He let him past, and together they battled down the steep slope to the all-terrain vehicle Hans had managed to procure.

Darren had decided not to ask questions about that.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

He narrowed his eyes at the surveillance footage. The quick background check his men had done had provided some very interesting results – a too-clean record, and a partner had killed four people. A partner with a very interesting name. He’d recognize royal blood anywhere, even hidden away in the slums of Interpol.

Now why would a Serpentis hang out with someone who hangs out with his little cousin?

Why was her record so incredibly clean?

How could someone _survive_ without a paper trail?

There was movement on the monitors, and he snapped back to the present. The apartment door opened, and his cousin appeared… only to let that scrawny little bulldog in, as well. She placed something that looked like a book on the small table inside the door, then leaned back without really looking. Renard seemed to be laughing and caught her, wrapping his arms around her.

What the-

He could see, quite clearly despite the resolution of the camera, how she leaned up to place a kiss on his jaw.

 _Oh_. Well, that was interesting. He grinned to himself. It was more than interesting, it was _leverage_.

His phone rang. Sneering as he saw the caller ID, he answered anyway.

“Ms. Shade, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Something is wrong.” Alexae whispered, pressing her lips to his jaw as a façade. “Someone’s been in here.”

He pulled her closer, buried his face in her hair. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She relaxed into him, turned so she could hide her words in his shoulder. “Someone touched that table, moved it-” She stopped as an image came to her. “There’s a camera across from the door, hidden in the crease of the ceiling.”

“Okay.” He let go of her, spun her around and smiled down at her. “You’re gorgeous.”

She quirked a brow. “There’s no audio recording.”

He chuckled. “Go figure out your book.” He offered. “I’ll take care of this.”

“My hero.” He rolled her eyes at her as she took the book and marched to the couch. “I should get you a white horse.”

He hummed. “Very impractical parking, I think.” He was moving the table back to where it had been not too long ago. He could see it now, too; carpet indents in just the wrong spots, slight scratching on the wall. Someone had been in here. “Who do you think it was?”

“Don’t know.” She took a pen and paper pad and opened the book. “Big guy, though. Hired. No snooping just placed the camera and left.”

“Tu m’épate.” He mumbled, as he climbed onto the table. “Where exactly did he stick it?”

“Roughly right in front of the center of the door, near the ceiling.” She looked at the first page. “This might not be easy.”

“It’ll be worth it, though.” He found the little black button, made a face at it, and tore it off the wall. “Want to wave at the camera?”

“I think that spectacle just now was enough.” She studied the page closely. She recognized some of the runes, but she wasn’t sure what method was used to encrypt them. Her eyes fell on the dots and lines decorating the edges of the pages, and her heart sped up as she recognized it.

Morse.

And there, in the corner, the tiniest speck of blood, as if someone had pricked their finger. _A clue_.

She quickly jotted the Morse down and dug through her pockets for her phone. “This is odd.”

“What is?” He was studying the camera, looking for wires, codes, serial numbers.

“This code.” She held it up to him, but noticed he wasn’t looking. “It’s Morse, but…” She frowned. “It’s too regular.”

“Well, it’s double-encrypted, right?” He squinted down at a miniscule engraving. “You wouldn’t get normal patterns.”

“Still, this is-” Eyes darting around the page, she notices the small scattering the page, as if the printer had issues, or someone shook a pen above the paper. “Oh.”

“What?” He’d put the camera away, was moving towards her, now.

“Seven.” She counted the dots again. “It’s a sevenfold cypher.”

“What?” He repeated. He plopped down next to her on the couch, took the book from her hands, and frowned at her. “How could anyone ever crack that?”

“You don’t.” She pulled her paper pad closer, folding up her legs to have something to write on. He put an arm around her to keep her steady. “Not unless you know the key. Or key _s_. And the order in which to use them.”

“So basically only the person making the code can crack it?”

“That’s what it comes down to.” She started making lists of seven, filling them out from memory.

He caught on. “You made this one.”

“I helped.” She admitted. “When I was… _younger_ , there was this guy.” She leaned against him a bit, eyes falling closed. “Come to think of it, he was around your age, I think. A cousin of mine. We followed language classes together. One day… We had to build our own cyphers. Something that made sense, but couldn’t be cracked. Everyone was busy making hard keywords, but he just asked me…” She smiled at the memory. “He asked me why we wouldn’t just use more than one cypher. So we did. Our teacher couldn’t break it. Called us brilliant.”

Sean hummed. “You are.” He looked down at the book. “You think this is your cypher?”

“One of them.” She nodded. “We developed more than one over the years. Over time, we decided that leaving dots was the best way to hint what kind of cypher we’d be dealing with. Only the worthy would know.”

“You being one of them.” He closed the book and put it to the side, and pulled her paper pad to his lap so she didn’t have to curl in on herself. “How many keys do you have?”

She sighed. “Several. This might be a while.” She looked at the translator she’d found on her phone, and down to the lines of dots and stripes decorating the text in the middle. “Maybe you can get started on the other one. I doubt they coded everything so painstakingly. It might just be foreign.”

He hummed, pressed a kiss to her hair. “Maybe.”

.----  -----  ...--  .----  -----  .----  .----  -----  ---..  ....-  -....  .----  -----  --...  .----  -----  ----.  .----  -----  ..---  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  .----  --...  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  -----  ----.  -----  ----.  ----.  -----  ----.  ----.  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  -----  --...  .----  .----  ..---  .----  -----  -----  .----  .----  --...  .----  .----  -....  .----  .----  ..---  .----  -----  -----  .----  .----  ..---  .----  ..---  .----  .----  -----  .....  .----  .----  -....  .----  .----  ...--  .----  -----  .----  .----  -----  -....  .----  .----  ....-  -----  ----.  --...  .----  ..---  ..---  .----  -----  .....  .----  .----  ----.  .----  -----  --...  ----.  ---..  .----  -----  ...--  .----  .----  .....  .----  .----  .----  .----  .----  ..---  .----  .----  ---..  .----  .----  -....  .----  -----  .....  .----  .----  -....  .----  .----  .....  .----  -----  ---..  .----  .----  ..---  .----  -----  ...--  .----  -----  --...  .----  .----  -....  .----  ..---  -----  .----  -----  --...  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  .----  .....  .----  .----  ---..  .----  .----  .----  .----  ..---  .----  .----  -----  ..---  .----  -----  ..---  .----  -----  ..---  .----  .----  ----.  .----  ..---  .----  .----  -----  -----  -----  ----.  --...  .----  ..---  ..---  .----  .----  .....  .----  .----  ..---  .----  -----  .----  .----  -----  .....  .----  .----  .----  .----  -----  ....-  .----  -----  ..---  .----  .----  .----  .----  .----  -....  .----  -----  ....-  -----  ----.  --...  .----  .----  ----.  .----  -----  ..---  .----  -----  .....  .----  .----  .----  .----  -----  -----  .----  -----  ..---  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  .----  -....  .----  -----  .....  .----  .----  ....-  .----  .----  ..---  .----  ..---  -----  .----  -----  -----  -----  ----.  ---..  .----  .----  ---..  .----  .----  ----.  .----  -----  ....-  .----  .----  -----  .----  -----  -----  .----  -----  -----  .----  -----  ---..  .----  .----  --...  .----  .----  ----.  .----  .----  .....  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  .----  ..---  .----  -----  ---..  -----  ----.  --...  -----  ----.  ---..  .----  .----  ---..  .----  -----  ...--  .----  -----  .----  .----  .----  ----.  .----  -----  -....  .----  -----  ...--  .----  .----  ---..  .----  -----  ..---  .----  ..---  -----  -----  ----.  --...  -----  ----.  ----.  .----  -----  ..---  .----  -----  ---..  .----  .----  -----  .----  ..---  -----  .----  -----  ..---  .----  -----  -....  .----  -----  -....  .----  -----  -....  .----  .----  -----  .----  .----  ....-  .----  -----  --...  .----  ..---  -----  -----  ----.  --...  .----  -----  .....  -----  ----.  --...  .----  -----  ....-  .----  -----  -....  -----  ----.  ---..  .----  -----  ---..  .----  .----  ..---  .----  .----  ---..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tu m'epate = you amaze me  
> Another code! I'm quite proud of this one, it's a sevenfold cypher, which makes it incredibly hard to crack unless you know the keys. In case anyone's bored and wants to break the code:  
> 1\. word abtash; 2. literal abtash; 3. Ceasar 7; 4. trifid; 5. Ascii;6. split up letters; 7. morse  
> This will give you a Dutch poem, which makes no sense to anyone and I'll translate to English in the next chapter, anyway.  
> (Most of these cyphers are exercises for me to fix writers' block when I get it. Sorry for including them, but they're fun.)  
> I hope you enjoyed reading this one! please let me know!


	40. Cast the Dice

_De toekomst is onzeker de wereld verandert en in het midden staat Zij met een Ander_

_Het lot is geworpen de toekomst staat vast en zij zullen het brengen die zware last_

Alexae frowned down at the text. “The future is uncertain.” She translated quickly, glancing up at him. “The world is changing, and in the middle She stands with an Other. And this one… weird.”

“The… die has been cast, the future is certain, they will bring the heavy burden.”

Sean stared at her hand as she hastily scribbled down a translation. “That… makes no sense.”

“It does, actually.” She smiled up at him. “It’s a commentary on the duality of life, the issues a fortune teller faces. Most people seem to think that everything is either predetermined, or everything is random, while in fact everything is neither and both, like light particles are both a wave and a dot, and everything just-”

He leaned down gently, and she stopped, closing the distance herself.

“I’m tired.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Join me?”

She frowned, confused. “It’s barely four.”

“I know.” He kissed her nose. “Come to bed with me?”

Realisation dawned on her. “I’m not-”

“I know.” He interjected. “We had a rough day. Join me in bed.”

She nodded, smiling.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

His hands shook as he dripped the wax on the envelope. His last flame flickered uncertainly above the paper, illuminating his makeshift cave. He hissed as he pressed his thumb in the hot mass.

In the distance, he heard a clang.

 _It is time_.

He stood, blew to dry the wax. He placed the envelope between a stack of meticulously-placed papers in the corner. Turned to the door.

Waited.

After what must’ve been five minutes, the metal door started rolling up.

“Your excellency.” He bowed his head deeply. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The man in the doorway sneered. “You are a disgrace to our race.” He stepped inside the small room.

He met the man’s eyes, watching him as he glided into his space.

“I believe some will disagree with you.”

The man eyed the stacks of books and papers covering every surface. “You have committed nothing short of blasphemy with your work.” He drawled lowly, tipping over a stack of parchment papers.

“We have the biggest bas of knowledge in the world.” He defended himself. It would be futile. “The people deserve to benefit from it.”

“Those maggots deserve _nothing_.” The man turned on his heels to face him. “They deserve to be _crushed_ for what they’ve done to us.”

“These people have done _nothing_.” He could feel himself get angry. “The ones that have were taken care of long ago. We don’t live in the age of the witch hunt anymore.”

“You’re naïve.” The man’s eyes flared. “Your passion for humanity has _broken_ you.”

“No.” He frowned. “We are as much humanity as all the others, we’re a part of this planet, and _we were put on it to help humanity_. We can’t rule over the people we don’t know.”

The man stepped closer. “We have for millennia.” He sneered. “We were _gods,_ people _worshipped_ us. They feared us, they still do. We are above the others, we do not bother with _humanity._ ”

He huffed. “I know _someone_ who disagrees with you. She-”

“ _Do not speak of her._ ” The man’s eyes lit up, and he could feel the sting in the back of his mind. His vision blurred.

He straightened his back. “She is not yours.”

“She might have lost the Path, but she will find the way back.”

“She never was yours. She never will be yours.” He looked at the man for a moment, getting bolder, now. The game was already played. “Did you know she’s hanging around with a Zauberbiest?”

“He’s a _maggot_.” The man turned again. “All of them, _maggots._ ”

“She had a heart for the _maggots_.” He pointed out. “As she had heart for the serpent.”

“I should _never_ had let her choose.”

“Well.” He smirked boldly. “If you’d read the scripts, you would’ve known.”

The man nearly growled. “Say your last words.” He rumbled. “You will not live to see the sunset.”

“I will not live to see the hours change.” He stared him down, then took a deep breath. He’d prepared for this. “May the cold darkness of the Great Unknown swallow you whole and never let go, _your excellency._ I will be watching down on you from the Eternal Light and laughing my royal arse off.”

The man looked unimpressed. “Is that what you want your last words to be?”

“No.” He turned his back on the man. “You can strike me down in confidence. You can hunt down the Rex Serpentis. You can burn down the entire continent, but there is no way you can bring her down. She will win this war, and there is nothing you can do. We’ve all seen it.”

The man stared at the back of his head intently. “The future is always uncertain.”

His body hit the concrete floor with a dull thud.

The candle flickered out from the air displacement.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you ever wonder…” Tavitian stared into the campfire they’d built, “What will happen when you come back?” He glanced at his companion. “You’ve been gone for months. Your lady might’ve moved on.”

“I doubt it.” He poked at the embers with a stick. “There’s an… agreement between us.”

Hans huffed. “You guys are married?”

“Worse than that.” He smirked, crossed his heart. “We’re bonded by tradition. She’s my charge.”

“Really?” He wrapped his coat tighter around himself. “So you _are_ married.”

Darren sighed. “It’s- well, I- I’m-” He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Okay.” Hans checked his watch. “We have three hours before we move again. Time enough to explain?”

Darren stretched out, let the fire tickle the soles of his feet. “I can try.” He rolled his neck. “Settle in, this might be a long one.”

Hans lay down, getting as close to the fire as he could, and listened, looking up at the man as he started talking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think of this chapter! ^_^


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